Dash and Dingo

by Catt Ford

  “Thanks,” Dingo muttered, looking surprised. He paused for a moment, taking an appraising glance up and down Henry’s body.

  Henry could feel the flush start on his face and spread down his neck and chest, wondering why he felt so exposed. “Your shower?”

  “Right,” Dingo said, and he turned and marched into his own room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Score one for Dash,” Henry murmured and smiled.

  After an uneasy breakfast, they took a taxi back to the airport where Henry was left to himself as Dean and Dingo conferred on flight plans, fueling, and schedules while stowing the new batch of mail and parcels they’d picked up. Henry had the distinct impression that Dingo was trying to avoid him, which was a new one on him, but it left him feeling lonely and like a bit of an interloper.

  Dean and Dingo disappeared into the cockpit, leaving Henry to make a nest for himself amongst the mailbags in the back. He’d found it was the most comfortable way of traveling, as there were no seats in the body of the plane, nor were there windows, so he couldn’t pass the time by looking out unless he wanted to hold his body in a crouching position and peer past the two pilots’ shoulders.

  It robbed him of the wonder of actually flying to be shut away from the action in the dark. The feeling of movement and the noise battered his senses into a somnolent state, from which he would periodically jerk awake if he heard a sound or the plane lost altitude in one of those sickening drops. Dingo had explained that it happened sometimes, but that it didn’t follow that they were going to fall out of the air.

  “If the engines cut out, that’s when it’s time to worry, although worry will buy you nothing,” Dingo had said with a laugh. “Donning a parachute makes more sense, but don’t bother unless I tell you.”

  Henry had wanted to ask, “What if you’re incapacitated? Do I use my best judgment or go down with the airplane?” But he hadn’t wanted to appear pansy to Dingo. Not pansy, precisely, but Dingo seemed to have no fear, laughing gleefully whenever the plane did take a dip.

  After Prachaub, quick stops in Singapore, Batavia, Bima, and Koepang put them within reach of Australia. Darwin was Henry’s first taste of Australia, and the hour that they spent there was disappointing and one that he hoped wouldn’t be representative of the entire trip. A desert airfield in the middle of nothing made him realize how big and empty this newfound land was and why the British still sneeringly referred to it as “the Colonies.” The next few stops assuaged his fears, as they proved that Australia truly was a land of many temperate zones and landscapes. Finally they landed in Melbourne, where Henry climbed stiffly from the plane, clutching his duffle bag while he shook hands with Dean, the pilot, thanking him for the lift.

  “No worries!” Dean said. He turned to Dingo, and the two men shook hands before giving each other a rough hug, clapping each other’s back. “Tooroo, Dingo! Any time you want to fly with me, give me the word. Can always use a co.”

  “On your bike, then,” Dingo said with a big smile. “Who knows, we may need to give old Dash a lift back to England.”

  “When will that be then?” Dean asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Chambers. What is your schedule?”

  Henry turned to gaze at the owner of the new voice, surprised at how he took an instant dislike to the man it oozed from.

  He had black hair, smoothed back sleekly from his forehead, shiny with oil, small blue eyes, a long nose, and a disagreeable pursed look to his mouth, even though he was smiling. He ignored Henry, boring into Dingo with his beady eyes.

  “Clarence, you shouldn’t have!” Dingo said with an insolent grin. “You met the aeroplane to welcome me back to my homeland. And here I could have sworn you didn’t like me!”

  Dean clapped his hand on Dingo’s shoulder. “Dingo did me a favor, Mr. Hodges. I lost my co-pilot in England, and he crewed for me on the way back.”

  “I didn’t come to the airport to meet you,” Hodges said icily. “I happen to be here on government business and caught sight of you, and—”

  “And you couldn’t wait to say hello! I’m touched, I tell you, touched.” Dingo grabbed Hodges’s hand in a crushing grip and pumped vigorously.

  Henry tried to hide the smirk that curved his lips when Hodges darted an angry glance at him.

  “Who’s your friend?” Hodges inquired as he wrested his hand away from Dingo and wiggled his fingers to return the feeling to them.

  “This is my cousin, Dash, over on a visit to meet my folks, his auntie and uncle,” Dingo declared, stepping closer to put his arm across Henry’s shoulders. “Long lost, like.”

  “Dash Chambers?” Hodges inquired, holding out his hand so that Henry could take it.

  Henry opened his mouth, but Dingo forestalled him. “That’s it; that’s just it. Dash Chambers, cousin to Dingo, Baz, and Johnno.”

  Wondering who all these people might be, Henry shook hands, amused when Hodges tried to put the crush on his hand. He tightened his grip, maintaining his expression of innocence as Hodges began to squint in pain and tried to withdraw his hand.

  “Pleased to meet you!” Henry boomed, mimicking Dingo’s accent with a varying degree of accuracy that made the other man stare. “Dingo here’s told me all about you.”

  “He has?” Hodges asked uneasily, wringing his fingers once again. “What brings you to Australia then, Mr. Chambers? I could have sworn you were here at the behest of Gordon Austin.”

  Henry froze at the mention of Gordon’s name and the realization that Hodges knew exactly who he was. He had no idea who this Hodges was or how he was involved in all of this, but when he met Dingo’s eyes, they were brimming with mischief. Whatever was going on here, it was best to play by Dingo’s rules for the moment. A crazy idea came to him, so farfetched it seemed perfectly logical to be accredited to Dingo. “Don’t tell anyone then, but…” he paused thrillingly before whispering, “diamonds.”

  Hodges immediately assumed a bored and condescending air and said, “Rather. Well, you’ll have your work cut out. Tell me, Mr. Chambers, have you any interest in the native wildlife?”

  He knows, Henry thought. I don’t know what to do.

  Luckily Dingo came to the rescue. “What, like kangaroos?”

  “Nothing that common,” Hodges said disdainfully.

  “What, you want to play a round of Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, Clarence? Dash here can tell you anything you want to know about rock. Igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic. Name your poison!”

  “What would you say diamonds are then, Mr. Chambers?” Hodges asked with his eyes narrowed.

  “They could be said to be all three,” Henry answered glibly. “When an organic compound becomes a fossil, it falls into the sedimentary category, when pressure and heat are applied it becomes metamorphic as in coal, and depending on the amount of pressure and heat, a diamond would then fall within the igneous classification.”

  Hodges looked somewhat taken aback; Dingo was impressed, while Dean was merely watchful. “Uh, right, that’s—I see you know your stuff. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure’s all his,” Dingo assured the man. “Smart boy, I told you. He’s been to college.”

  “Your parents must be proud,” Hodges said inanely, glancing at his watch. “I’m late for an appointment. You’ll forgive me….”

  “You must come for tea and say hello to me old dad, sometime!” Dingo bawled after the retreating figure. “He’d like to see you again.”

  Hodges looked at Dingo with barely concealed distaste before he hurried to a car parked beside the wooden tower, got into it, and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

  “What was that all about?” Henry asked.

  Ignoring his question, Dingo demanded, “Was all that folderol about diamonds true?”

  “Haven’t a clue. I made it all up,” Henry admitted. He grinned as the other two men broke into surprised laughter. “One of the advantages of a college education, learning to bullshit.”
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br />   “That and a fancy ten-dollar vocabulary.” Dean chuckled. “Well, Dash, it’s been a pleasure. Call on me for a lift any time.” He shook hands with Henry, who wondered at this mark of respect from a man who’d all but ignored his presence for the entire trip, relaying his commands through Dingo.

  Dean turned to confer with the man who’d descended from the tower and approached them with a dolly for moving the mailbags.

  Dingo picked up his own bag and led the way toward the tower. Henry hurried after him, repeating his question. “So what was that all about? Who was that man?”

  Dingo gave him a sidelong grin. “You’re in the wars now, mate. Clarence Hodges works for the government, but he’s got his own agenda. And I’m well-known as being one who wants Tassie left well alone. He keeps an eye on me. I’m not quite sure what he suspects me of, but he keeps tabs on my comings and goings.”

  Henry pondered for a moment. “He knew about Gordon Austin. That means he’ll find out who I am, if he doesn’t already know.”

  “And what will he find out, then? You were giving some sort of rock tour that day I talked to Lardarse, right? So he’ll think you’re a rock-hound.”

  Henry didn’t see how it could be that simple, and he wondered why Dingo was missing what seemed obvious to a blind man. “And what’ll he think about you lying about my name?”

  “Nothing. He knows not to believe a word out of my mouth,” Dingo said dismissively. “I like pulling his leg. It’s—”

  “Fun, I know,” Henry finished for him. “Where are we going now?”

  “Home. Like I said. You have to meet your long lost auntie and uncle,” Dingo said, linking his arm with Henry’s. “Think Lardarse will let out what you’re here for?”

  Henry smiled without amusement. “Stiff upper lip and all that. The British do not announce their intentions, only their victories. If I were to fail and he’d puffed off the expedition everywhere, well, not to be borne, eh? No, Lardarse will more likely tell everyone I’ve gone on holiday.”

  “Lending credence to our story that you’re here to meet the family,” Dingo said. “And here’s your cousin, then, my brother Baz.”

  Henry withdrew his arm from Dingo’s in a hurry, flushing red when he saw an older, mellower version of Dingo standing beside a battered truck. It didn’t help that he still felt uneasy about Hodges. The man seemed to see right through their lies, and Henry didn’t like the fact that Dingo was brushing Hodges off so easily. There had to be more of a story to it all.

  “Haroo!” Baz cried out.

  “Haroo to you!” Dingo echoed.

  Henry watched, bemused as they executed some secret ritual comprised of a peculiar handshake and a stiff little dance that stirred the dust at their feet.

  “And this must be Dash,” Baz said, extending his hand to Henry.

  “Er, Baz?”

  “That’s the name, cousin.” Baz couldn’t have known the whole story of what Henry’s sudden claim to family involvement, but he took it all in his stride. “Throw your bag in the back, and let’s hit the road.” Baz turned and climbed in, opening the passenger door and sliding through to the driver’s seat.

  Henry hung back for a moment but felt Dingo’s hands, warm on his upper arms as he was propelled toward the truck.

  “Short for Barry,” Dingo explained. “Come on, then. You take the hump.”

  Henry wondered how the hell one got from Barry to Baz; he also wondered what a hump was and then found out as Dingo climbed in beside him and he was pressed between two sandy-haired, muscled Chambers men, both of whom instantly spread their legs wide, encroaching into his territory and snapping his own legs together by force.

  Dingo draped one arm out the window and the other over Henry’s shoulders. “So you don’t impede Baz’s driving. He needs all the help he can get.”

  Henry jumped when Dingo hit the side of the truck with his open palm. “Hit it, Baz!”

  “Righto!” Baz said and put the truck in gear.

  Chapter 6

  England’s influence was obvious in the names of the suburbs they passed through. Ascot Vale, Essendon, Brunswick… Henry wouldn’t have been surprised if they had also come across Westminster and Bath. The suburbs seemed familiar and yet alien at the same time. It was like a parallel universe of his homeland, except it had been baked in an oven and left out in the sun to bleach.

  Dingo and Baz chatted amiably between themselves, catching up on everything Dingo had missed in the six weeks he had been away from home. Henry tried to listen in but was distracted by all the new sights that passed in front of him. Dingo’s arm was still hanging casually behind his neck, and Henry unconsciously leaned into it, using it as a headrest. When he became aware of what he was doing, Henry wished that Dingo would stroke the hot skin of his neck.

  One suburb had bled into another, but this one seemed to be different. The houses weren’t as uniform; they had more character and the architecture was varied. The people he could see out and about on the streets weren’t so consistently Anglo-Saxon either, Mediterranean hues of skin marched along with Orthodox Jews, and Henry craned his neck to watch them pass with interest.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Carlton,” Dingo replied, grinning at the obvious delight Henry was displaying. “Also known as home sweet home.”

  “Yeah.” Baz snorted. “For slackers who still live with their folks.”

  Dingo whacked the back of his head. “I’m hardly ever at home long enough to justify getting my own place.” He leaned in to Henry. “And this coming from a guy who only moved out last year.”

  “Yeah, because I got married.”

  “Oh?” Dingo teased. “Not because you were wanting to be footloose and fancy-free?”

  “You’ll get hitched one day too,” Baz replied laconically.

  Dingo’s face darkened momentarily. “That ain’t gonna happen.”

  Baz laughed. “There’s no woman who can tie him down, Dash. He’s just too much man for a woman to handle.” He yelped when Dingo cuffed him around the ear, and they almost swerved off the road.

  “Watch it, you dick!” Dingo scowled. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

  Baz only laughed like a loon again, amused by himself.

  Henry swallowed heavily, glad they were still alive and not killed by the oncoming traffic. But Baz’s words still stung. “Really?” He risked looking back at Dingo, who still held the remnants of a scowl upon his face.

  “They all love him, though,” Baz continued.

  “Can it,” Dingo growled.

  Henry still didn’t know Dingo well enough to second-guess his moods, but the man looked dangerous at the moment. Baz blithely ignored it, secure in the history of sibling camaraderie and conflict.

  “He hates it when we discuss his personal life.”

  “Look, there’s the Melbourne Cemetery,” Dingo said desperately, to take the spotlight off himself.

  Immediately interested, Henry peered past Baz’s profile to peer at the large city of the dead on his right. He gave a slight whistle. “It’s enormous.”

  “That’s what my wife said, and she should know,” Baz said, amusing himself.

  Double entendres obviously run in the family, Henry thought as he heard Dingo snickering on his left.

  “Biggest cemetery in Melbourne,” Dingo said, turning on the voice of the tour-guide once he had composed himself. “Used to be closer in to the city, but they moved the headstones farther out to start a new one up here.”

  “Moved the headstones?” Henry asked pointedly.

  “Yep, the bodies are still there,” Dingo said cheerily.

  “Doesn’t anybody care?”

  Baz snorted. “They’re dead, aren’t they? How can they complain?”

  Henry was horrified. “But it’s a basic tenet of our society to respect the dead. Leaving the bodies behind but pretending to show respect by moving the headstones is just morally bankrupt.”

  “You’re dealing with a histo
rian here, Baz,” Dingo said, as if that explained everything.

  Which apparently it did, to Baz. “Ah.”

  “I suppose being a plunderer, you quickly lose respect for the dead,” Henry said snottily.

  “Who’s a plunderer?” Baz demanded.

  “Dash,” Dingo warned, and Henry couldn’t help but heed the tone.

  “Is he calling our dad a plunderer?” Baz asked, his voice rising.

  “I think he was actually insulting me,” Dingo drawled.

  “Oh,” Baz relaxed behind the wheel again. “That’s okay, then.”

  Henry turned to Dingo. “I wasn’t—”

  “I’m not a plunderer,” Dingo said softly.

  “Oh, you two are going to work perfectly together.” Baz laughed. “A regular Burke and Wills.”

  Dingo groaned, and Henry felt confused all over again as he still hadn’t recovered from the shame he felt at apparently insulting the man.

  “Who?” Henry asked.

  “Australian explorers,” Baz explained. “They died trying to map the north.”

  “Oh,” Henry said, crestfallen. “That’s not exactly a cheery analogy.”

  “Comrades in great achievement, and comrades in death,” Dingo mused.

  “Pardon?” Henry asked.

  “That’s what’s written on their tomb.” Dingo grinned.

  “You’re just as bad as your brother,” Henry murmured unhappily.

  “That’s what they say,” Baz said, shifting slightly in his seat. “Almost home.”

  Henry felt Dingo sit up, more alert. There was a genuine smile on his face; he was happy to be home and see his family again. Henry wondered if there had ever been a period in his life when he had worn the same expression in respect to his own homestead. As bad as boarding school had been, the prospect of returning home in the hols had never seemed that much more attractive.

  “I still can’t believe Dingo found somebody as crazy as himself to tag along on this expedition,” Baz muttered.

  “You don’t understand, Baz,” Dingo said tiredly and simply, a reaction to an oft-repeated argument.