An Extract from Rookwood Island, by Caroline de Costa

Opening lines

In the early dawn it was hard to distinguish shapes. Across the passage from the beach the edges of the island blurred into the mist. At the river mouth the tea-coloured streams coming down from the mountains merged deeply with the sharp salt of the Coral Sea. Occasionally a tangled vine or a decaying log swept past, discarded by the rainforest. There was the harsh cawing of seagulls overhead, and from the scrub by the river came the morning laughter of a kookaburra.

Further down the beach from the river mouth, the contours of a spit of rock melted into the sand. The outline of the girl blended into the shadow of the rock, and with the larger waves disappeared altogether.

As the first rays of the tropical sun broke through the cloud over the island, it would have been possible to see the girl more clearly. Had anyone been there to do so. Her long dark hair was bleached gold at the tips. Her toenails were painted electric blue, her fingernails bitten to the quick. Her underwear was in place but her skirt and lacy bra were caught by spicules of rock, so that though she lolled a little with each incoming wave she moved neither further up the beach, nor back into the sea that had offered up its hideous gift. One arm was stretched up against the rock, and covered, like her legs and face, with abrasions that no longer bled. Her mouth was filled with fine white sand.

A single brown dog came padding by, sniffed a little, then moved on further down the beach to where a dead parrotfish held more interest. The sun grew hotter, and the mist lifted from around the island, so that it would have been possible to see how the rainforest reached down to the sand over there, across the bay, and how the funny candy-striped lighthouse stood on the flat slab of rock at the island’s peak. Had anyone been there to do so.

The tide slowly turned, and the waves receded, so that the girl lay quite still by the rock. Black flies came and began to circle about her face. A brilliant butterfly, iridescent blue, alit for a moment on one gleaming toe-nail.

The sun rose higher, the mist rolled further up the mountains, and on the beach huge crabs skittered forth from their hiding places in the shallows. It was another perfect day in Queensland.