The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

Honey grevillea

Meaning: Foresight

Grevillea eriostachya | Inland Australia

Kaliny-kalinypa (Pitjantjatjara) is a straggly shrub with long narrow silver-green leaves that produces bright green, yellow and orange flowers. Commonly grows on red sandhills and dunes. The flowers contain thick, honey-like nectar, which can be sucked from the flowers; a favourite treat for Anangu children.

At five o’clock that afternoon a horn beeped outside. Alice peeked through her kitchen window and saw the profile of a woman sitting in one of the park utes. She set down fresh water for Pip, gave her a rub behind the ears, grabbed her house keys and hurried out the front door. Her thongs kicked up little clouds of red dust in the late afternoon light.

‘Alice!’ The woman pushed her sunglasses off her face and greeted Alice like an old friend. ‘I’m Lulu.’ Her eyes were the colour of eucalyptus leaves: pale green and hazel brown. Around her neck a silver star-shaped pendant hung from a thin piece of leather.

‘Hi,’ Alice said shyly as she got in.

‘Let’s check out the sunset, chica,’ Lulu said, as if they’d been mid-conversation. She put her foot down and the ute bounced over the graded dirt track, away from Alice’s house. Pink and grey galahs streaked overhead.

‘So where are you from, Alice?’

The crater loomed ahead of them, its edges gilded by the light.

‘Uh, east coast, then inland. On a farm. Kind of all over the place.’ She gulped. ‘You?’

‘Down south. The coast, not the city.’ Lulu glanced over, smiling. ‘So, we’re both girls from the sea.’

Alice nodded silently. Dunes and gullies of red sand and brownish-green bushes passed her window in a blur. The passenger mirror was caked in red dust. It had begun to calm her somehow, the searing colour of it, the way it stuck to everything. She turned her hands over. The tiny creases in her fingers were filled with it. Alice folded them together in her lap.

Lulu turned onto the ring road. ‘Sarah suggested I point out who lives where but there’s no point really since you don’t know anyone yet. So, I reckon I’ll just take you straight to the sunset viewing area.’ She peered at the violet underbellies of a few stray clouds. ‘It should be a corker.’

The red wall of the crater rose in the distance. Above, the chopping sound of helicopter blades. Camera flashes caught Alice’s eye.

‘Tourist flights,’ Lulu said. ‘Sunset circus, chica.’

Alice watched the helicopters circling. ‘Sunset circus,’ she repeated curiously.

The car park was full of coaches, rental cars, camper vans and four-wheel drives. There was a rising cacophony of tourists’ chatter, cameras clicking, the hum of coach generators, and the erratic opening and closing of car doors and camper-van hatches. Lulu pulled up by another park ute and put on her hazard lights.

‘Welcome to your first Kililpitjara sunset.’ Lulu whistled as she got out.

Alice swung her door open to follow, stopping short. Lulu was talking to the ranger with the slouched hat and sunglasses.

Her cotton dress felt suddenly flimsy. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing for the obscurity of Lulu’s unisex park uniform and the sturdiness of her work boots. Though it was warm, Alice shivered. She tried to look anywhere other than at him, until Lulu gave her no choice.

‘Alice, this is Dylan Rivers. Dylan, Alice Hart. Our newest comrade.’

She forced herself to look up at him. Her reflection was small in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses.

‘G’day,’ he said with a nod, tipping his hat at her. ‘Welcome to Wonderland.’

A thrill rippled through her body. Alice willed herself to stay calm. ‘Thanks.’

‘First time down the rabbit hole?’ Dylan gestured to the crowds.

‘Yeah. I start tomorrow.’

‘Let the baptism of fire commence,’ Lulu said.

Alice raised her eyebrows.

Lulu laughed. ‘Don’t worry, chica, you’ll be fine. We all go through it. It’s the nature of the place.’

Dylan was about to respond when his attention was diverted by tourists.

‘I’m going to have to ask you to come behind the barrier please.’ He corralled a group back from the low fence they’d jumped, trampling plants and wildflowers to get a photo with the crater. When he returned to Alice and Lulu, he stood close enough to Alice for her to smell his cologne.

‘Sometimes I wonder, if they didn’t have their photos, would they even remember being here?’ He shook his head.

‘It’s like this every day?’ Alice asked.

Dylan nodded. ‘Sunrise and sunset. Two years ago guide books started listing this place as ‘one to see before you die’. Since then, our visitor numbers have doubled.’ He turned suddenly to Lulu. ‘Hey, did Aiden tell you about last night?’ he asked.

Lulu straightened up, as if on guard, and shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen him yet; he was on sunset last night, I was on sunrise this morning.’ She shot a glance at Alice. ‘Aiden’s my boyfriend,’ she said. Alice nodded, noting the hint of tension in Lulu’s voice.

‘Yeah, so,’ Dylan went on. ‘At the end of her patrol yesterday arvo, Ruby went into the crater and found a group of minga off track. They were inside Kututu Kaana. Naturally, she asked them to get out of the desert peas, and the same old argument flared up: “We’ve got as much right to these flowers as anyone else, I’m an Australian, this place is as much mine as it is yours, you can’t stop us from being here.” All that bullshit. Ruby had to radio Aiden for backup.’ Dylan shook his head. ‘When I got to work this morning, Ruby was in Sarah’s office absolutely giving it to her. I heard Sarah say something about her hands being tied, incident reports and a park staff meeting.’

‘Christ,’ Lulu muttered under her breath. ‘Have you seen Ruby today?’

He shrugged. ‘She’s been out on the homelands, I think.’

‘I’ll bet,’ Lulu nodded.

Alice tried to follow their conversation. Minga? Homelands? Dylan and Lulu looked at Alice as if they’d just remembered she was there.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘None of this will make sense to you yet.’

‘But it will soon enough,’ Lulu said resolutely.

‘Right.’ Alice smiled. ‘What’s that place you mentioned?’ she asked.

‘Kututu Kaana. The circle of desert peas inside the crater. Means Heart Garden,’ Lulu explained.

‘Heart Garden,’ Alice murmured.

Lulu nodded. ‘The problem’s with the walking track. It follows the outer circumference of the crater and climbs the wall to a visitor viewing platform, which was built after Handback, when this place was recognised as Aboriginal land. From the platform the track goes into the crater and around the desert peas, following a path that’s existed for thousands of years. Traditionally, it’s a ceremonial walk for women. Anangu have been asking for years for the park to close it to tourists. There was talk of it for a while, but since the tourist boom, that’s stopped.’

‘Why?’ Alice asked.

‘Tourists are money, right? They pay the park entry fee to get up close to the desert peas. So the walk into the crater and Kututu Kaana stays open. Tourists inevitably pick the desert peas as souvenirs to take home with them. And for the women whose ancestors have always been here, like Ruby, it’s dire. Every flower is a piece of Ngunytju’s heart.’

‘“Oong-joo”?’ Alice repeated.

‘Ngunytju,’ Lulu said, nodding. ‘Mother.’

Mother’s heart. Alice’s stomach lurched.

‘The major concern is the threat they pose to desert peas. If tourists don’t stop picking the flowers, it could cause mass root disturbance. If the desert pea roots are wrecked, the flowers, which quite literally are the heart of this place, its story and its people, will be destroyed.’

Alice tried to hide her filling eyes. She couldn’t understand why she was getting so upset.

‘You’ll see for yourself on your orientation tomorrow,’ Dylan said.

Alice nodded, watching as hordes of tourists continued to arrive. Some spilled out of coaches, while others mingled, drinking champagne from plastic flutes and eating salmon canapés. Families unpacked picnics and unfolded camp chairs, staking their claim to front-row views of the crater wall’s sunset colour changes. Couples sat on the roofs of their four-wheel drives, watching the sky. There was a nervous energy in the air. Be still, Alice felt the urge to yell. Pay attention.

Around them, the willowy needles of desert oak trees swayed in the pale orange light. Wafts of yellow butterflies fluttered low over acacia and mulga bushes. The crater wall slowly changed colour as the sun sank, from flat ochre to blazing red to chocolate-purple. The sun slipped under the dark line of the horizon, glowing like an ember as it threw its last light up into the sky. Something about the vastness reminded Alice of how she felt, long ago, a girl looking out over the sea.

As she watched the sky, a telltale cold sweat sprang from her skin. Her vision started to blur and her hands started to claw. She tucked them under her arms. Squeezed her eyes shut. Please. Her breathing was short and shallow. Breathe, she told herself. But her heart wouldn’t slow.

‘You okay?’ Dylan’s voice sounded far away. As he came towards her, he took his sunglasses off.

The next moment became the memory Alice would later slow in her mind, panning for the glimpse of gold: the simmering sky behind him, the dry air on her skin, and the drone of flies, like the bees at Thornfield. The rustling through the mulga trees, and the hum in the earth beneath her feet, as if every feeling she’d ever felt was practice, readying her for this, the first time she made eye contact with him. It wasn’t being put under a spell, or being hit by a truck, or getting an electric shock, or any of the other ways that the Flowers had described it to her when she was young.

For Alice, falling in love was nothing else but feeling her insides set on fire. The feeling consumed her, as if she’d somehow always known him and had been searching for him just as long.

Here he was.

As her knees gave way, she held his gaze, staring at him as she sank to the ground.

A sea of light rippled across her eyelids.

Alice, I’m right here, can you hear me?

Lulu’s face came into focus above her.

‘Sally?’ Alice asked.

‘Who?’ His voice. Dylan. Dylan was crouched by her side.

‘Alice Blue,’ Alice said, looking into his eyes.

‘She’s all right, just talking nonsense. She’s all good.’ Lulu cradled Alice’s shoulders and eased her up. ‘Slow and steady, chica.’ She opened a water bottle and gave it to Alice. The car park was empty. The sky was nearly dark. They sat in a pool of light spilling from Lulu’s ute.

‘Like making an entrance, hey?’ Dylan asked.

Embarrassment stung her cheeks. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

A small smile played on his face. ‘Reckon you’re going to keep us on our toes, Alice Hart.’

‘When was the last time you ate something?’ Lulu asked, her brow furrowed.

Alice thought back to the sandwich she had that morning at the roadhouse. She shook her head.

‘Okay. Dinner at mine, then. Let’s go.’ Lulu helped Alice to stand. The silhouette of the crater rose against the starry night sky. Alice looked around. The place felt entirely different emptied of crowds. Her eyes met Dylan’s.

‘You two going to be okay?’ Dylan didn’t take his eyes off Alice’s face.

‘All good,’ Lulu said firmly. She walked around her ute to the driver’s side. Dylan shut the passenger door, brushing Alice’s elbow. Her skin burned where his fingers had touched.

‘Thanks,’ Lulu called curtly as she started the engine.

‘Look after her,’ Dylan called, walking away with a wave. Look after her. A wave of pleasure curled through Alice. She strained to follow him in the low light.

As they headed back towards Parksville, Alice watched the star-soaked sky. ‘Thanks, Lulu,’ she said quietly.

Lulu reached over and squeezed her arm. ‘It’s a bit intense for everyone when they arrive. Like I said, baptism of fire, chica.’

Lulu stood in the dark at her back fence, watching the beam of the torch she’d given Alice bounce down the dirt road between their houses. When Alice’s torchlight waved, Lulu clicked hers on and waved until she saw Alice’s flick off. She walked back through the yard to her house. The splatter of water came from the bathroom. Aiden was in the shower. She cleared away the dirty dishes and empty Corona bottles with soggy slices of lime at the bottom, waiting for him to finish before she filled the sink.

There was nothing left of dinner. Lulu had made fish tacos using her abuela’s recipe, which had travelled around the world from Puerto Vallarta in Mexico with her when her abuela fled an arranged marriage. The secret to her spices was fresh cocoa. Always. Even if only a pinch. And it worked. Alice ate like a hungry dog, cleaning her loaded plate three times and necking beers until she wore the dozy smile of satisfaction that Lulu strived for whenever she cooked. Just one of the things her abuela taught her.

It was also Lulu’s abuela who taught her she had prevision. Just like me, she’d say knowingly. Foresight ran in the women of their family, an unbreakable thread through generations, to see danger before it arrived; to see trauma when it was hidden; to see love before it bloomed. Trust yourself, Lupita, her abuela used to say, looking deep into her eyes. This is why we named you ‘Little Wolf’. Your instincts will always guide you, like the stars.

Lulu was twelve when her abuela died. Afterwards, Lulu’s grief-stricken mother banished their traditional ways. She cleansed their home of shadow boxes and rosary beads. No chilli chocolate, no sugar skulls. No fire, no spice. No folktales. No monarch butterflies. No foresight. But Lulu’s visions didn’t stop. Her mother took her to a doctor in the city. Overactive imagination, the doctor said with a smile as he gave Lulu jelly beans, and her mother a referral to an optometrist. Lulu was prescribed glasses. Are they gone? her mother asked, eyes brimming with desperation. Lulu pushed her new glasses up her nose and nodded. She never again told anyone about her visions. Instead she spent nights by her window, whispering to her abuela in the sky.

As Lulu grew up, the visions grew stronger. At the sound of someone’s laugh, the smell of rain, the way light fell, or the sight of a flower, a curtain in Lulu’s mind drew back and there it would be, a slice of someone else’s life. Don’t be afraid, her abuela told her. This is your gift, Lupita.

Years later, Lulu’s visions continued though rarely made sense – a strange woman running along a beach, an unknown boy setting a paper boat into the sea, a house of flowers engulfed in fire – but Lulu experienced them as vividly as any memory of her own.

Three weeks before Alice arrived, Lulu had been on her back patio, potting seedlings, when the curtain drew back and a torrent of monarch butterflies swarmed through her, the sensation of their wings fluttering so strongly in her body she lost her balance. That afternoon, when Lulu pulled up outside Alice’s house and saw up close the monarch butterfly stickers on the sides of Alice’s truck, she’d heard her abuela’s voice. Guerrero del fuego. Fire warrior. Lulu had never been able to connect a vision to someone she knew. Until she met Alice Hart.

‘Lu?’ Aiden came down the hall, towelling his wet hair.

‘Sorry?’ She turned to look at him.

‘I asked if Alice got home okay?’

Lulu nodded. While she talked to Aiden often about her abuela, Lulu never told him, or anyone else, about the foresight. She’d tried a couple of times but could never find words that felt true, so in the end she outright lied. Aiden consequently thought vertigo was hereditary in Lulu’s family and often asked if she was getting enough rest, or eating enough to keep her blood sugar up.

He slung his towel over the back of a dining chair and went to the cupboard.

‘Alice seems pretty great,’ he said. ‘Sounds like Dylan made his classic impression, though.’ He took down a wine glass, and the bottle of red they’d opened the night before.

‘Yeah,’ Lulu agreed. Dread spread through her as she thought of the way she’d seen Alice looking at Dylan.

‘Does she know he’s got a girlfriend?’ Aiden poured a glass of wine.

Lulu ran the sink, added too much dishwashing liquid. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Maybe you should mention it?’ Aiden asked.

‘It’s not my place, mi amor.’ Lulu turned the taps off. Kept her back to him.

‘Reckon it’s precisely your place, my love,’ he replied. Lulu sunk her hands into the hot, soapy water, washing a plate clean. If only past mistakes were as easy to wash away.

‘She seems a bit sad though,’ he said, gently nudging Lulu away from the sink to take over. He gestured towards the glass of wine. Lulu dried her hands and took a sip.

Their conversation lulled. Lulu wandered to the back door with the wine glass. Put her hand on the latch.

‘Say g’day to your grandmother for me,’ Aiden called. She smiled at him gratefully.

Outside, the night was warm and silver, the sky thick with stars and the light of a waning moon. Dogs howled in the distance. Lulu sat on the dune at the back of their yard and sipped her wine. The red dirt was cool and fine. She picked up a handful and let it run through her fingers as she looked through the silhouettes of desert oaks towards the lit windows in Alice’s house. Flames fluttered through her mind; fire-coloured butterflies.

After a while she swivelled slowly in the other direction until she was facing Dylan’s house. Its shadowy bulk sat dark and silent. A movement in the shadows caught her eye. Lulu watched, taking a shaky sip of her wine. The memory of his cologne flooded her senses.