Heart of The Tree
Prologue
The Tree was old. It had watched over many generations of local inhabitants. Settlers moving west from Sydney, recognising that the area was suitable for farming, had formed the small township of Mourton around The Tree. Even then, the residents recognised something special in The Tree and preserved the land around it as a park. Their discovery of land nearby that was suitable for grapes assured the prosperity of the town.
The children enjoyed clambering through the gnarled roots, up between the multiple, twisted trunks, and along the huge, curving branches. The middle of The Tree, between those trunks, was a safe haven, a fort, the room at the top of an enchanted tower, the meeting place of a secret society, the cabin of a sailing ship, or the centre of a wild forest — whatever the children imagined. Without knowing it, The Tree became a part-time babysitter, as it entertained the youngsters while their parents performed their strange adult rituals.
An educated man once declared The Tree to be a magnificent specimen of Ficus Macrophylla — a Moreton Bay Fig Tree. That name said so much about The Tree, but left so much more unstated.
Young lovers enjoyed the cool shade the spreading canopy provided. Many a tryst took place under the protection of The Tree.
Slowly, a legend grew.
Vows of love taken within the cover of The Tree were true and binding. The Tree was given the appellation “The Lovers’ Tree”, though most locals would shorten that to “The Tree”. Many a wedding was held under those leaves, and the district enjoyed the lowest divorce rate in the country.
The story is still told of a young man, hormones running wild, professing his love to the latest target of his lust, only for the purpose of gaining the momentary pleasure he sought. He’d done that before, but never under The Tree. It was the last conquest he ever made; no other girl would have him from that time on.
The townsfolk loved their tree and protected it to the best of their ability.
Three times, though, that protection wasn’t enough.
Three times, The Tree started to die.
Three times, a young maiden, despairing of ever finding love, found her beau in a stranger to the town.
Three times, a wedding was held under the canopy of the dying Tree.
Three times, The Tree recovered.
Three times, a young maiden was given the sobriquet of Heart of The Tree.
The last time had been just after World War II. Since then, The Tree had faithfully cared for the children, protected the young lovers, and comforted the older couples.
One night in late November, a drifter came into town. Filled with a sickness in his heart, he lay down beneath the tree and fell asleep.
He never woke up.
The sickness in his heart, though, spread to the tree.
The fourth time had arrived.