Chapter 23-With the Crocodiles
Mark felt so gutted as he returned to Katherine, the place where he had a flat in an ugly building in the town. He wondered what it was with himself that destroyed everything he loved.
He had loved Elfin without reservation, and while it had started more slowly with Bella, by that final day when he made the impossible choice to end it for her, his love for her had grown to something similar. In a way it had become even deeper, the way they shared their stories through both writing entries in his diary, the way she had taught him to play simple chords on her guitar and to sing harmonies with her, her voice like drops of gold, his more guttural but it had a resonance and timbre that seemed to blend with hers so that the whole was more than the parts.
He especially remembered the way she had taught him to dance as she sang the music for their feet to move to. They had practised on the flat ground next to the campfire. She had sang a waltz and patiently taught him the steps, doing it over and over again until his body flowed alongside hers in a perfect synchronicity. She had recognised a shyness in him on that night in Derby, the man who no one had taught to dance and thus had been deprived of one of life’s great joys. She had decided to fix that and give him this legacy even after she left, not that he planned for her to go as the days unfolded.
Dancing with her was like the joy he felt in riding a horse, two bodies moving in effortless flow, two wills fused, except with her it was even more wonderful to do, bare footed in the dust with this gorgeous dark haired woman-child who flowed in his arms, whisper light as she slid and brushed past him. It was endlessly enticing to be so close to her without consummation. He knew if he had tried to ravish her in the moment the magic may have broken, she would have not resisted but he wanted it to go on and on forever, bodies trembling in anticipation.
He remembered that wonderful second last night where they had finally joined their bodies, after a week of circling around this point in increasing desire, both wanting it to happen, but neither quite ready to make the first move.
It had been in the aftermath of a glorious song into the sunset, sitting together perched on the cliffs above a Kimberley Ocean that it had finally happened. Their bodies were touching as they sang, as if the song had given them permission to press against each other in a wordless embrace. Then as the glow of light had faded, they had stayed sitting that way for a long time, neither wanting to break the spell.
Finally she had nuzzled her face into his neck. He had found himself kissing her. From there all the rest was inevitable. It was something they both wanted so badly. It was as wonderful as any other moment he could remember in his life, the joy he felt as she held him tight, her body open to him and the wonderful release that came for both of them together.
The next day she had been like a frolicking goat as she bounded from rock to rock and cliff to cliff, so confident and fearless. She said she had grown up in hills like this and, now they were lovers, she wanted to sing and dance for joy. Their one full day together had been wonderful as they explored the coast, cliffs, rock pools and caves around the place of their camp. During that day they had made love more times than he could count, in the hot sun, in cool caves and pools and during much of that last glorious star filled night, with only two bodies in a wilderness of stars.
But what was even more precious to him was the way they had talked. She had told him all her hopes and fears, he had done the same with her. No secret was hidden by either from the other, their souls were bare. He had promised to come back with her to meet her family, he had spoken of imagined babies with her and her singing them lullabies. It was as if they were soul mates even more than lovers and this was the most precious thing. She was his Bella, his most beautiful one with the beautiful dancing spirit and a voice to charm the angels.
But she was gone, he felt now that he should have dived in to be with her in that final moment, so clearly imprinted on his brain. Him; sitting in the shade of a tree in the midday sun, as she cavorted on the cliff edge, dancing above a blue ocean as five large and lazy crocodiles circled below, hoping for more small lumps of leftover meat they had thrown to bring them in close.
Then how, as she danced by the edge, enjoying his eyes on her body as a prelude to more love making, the rock had crumbled under her ankle. A brief second, as she wobbled on the edge, her little shriek and then she plunged out of sight, two seconds of silence and the splash of water as she landed below. When he reached the edge he saw five crocodiles, initially startled, converging from all directions, her in the midst.
He ran back to pick up his rifle, only a 22 with small bullets, shorts, good for shooting the rock pigeons of which he was collecting a brace for their dinner. There was no time to run back to the car for his heavy rifle. He saw the terror in her eyes as she saw what was about to happen. Her cry to him for help tore him deep inside. He first considered trying to shoot the saurians; perhaps he could deflect one, though his gun only had the power to sting something this size, not harm it.
He remembered the desperate look on her face in that last second, with the closest crocodile less than a metre away. Then his sudden knowledge of what he must do, even as the thought broke his heart.
She must not suffer, his beautiful Bella, she must not know and feel the terrible tearing of their mouths. That final split second, as she looked up at him with an unfathomable hope and trust; he brought the foresight into line with her small white forehead, then the flat crack and her body slumped in the water, knowing no more. He had turned away, unable to look as they tore her body apart.
He willed himself to try and merge his soul with hers, in whatever spirit place she now existed. As hours passed he felt as if he achieved a sort of fusion between his spirit, hers and those crocodiles who had taken her within them.
He sat there in the full sun, still, unmoving, with no tears to cry until the sun came to the same place as the first night of their lovemaking. Then, as the wild dogs howled their hunting cry, he had howled his rage and grief to the empty sky.
As the stars came out he gathered all her things and found a small cave, hidden under the cliff at the back of their first love making place, a safe and dry place. One by one, he placed all her objects into this place, holding her clothes to his face for a long time so he could absorb and remember her smell. Her guitar came last of all; he strummed the strings one last time before he left it. Then he filled the entrance with large stones, to deny other creature’s entrance.
He drove off into the night, rage still burning in his soul and tears un-cried. He drove all the night and most of the next day until finally he found himself coming into the town of Kununurra. Here he bought a hotel room and a bottle of overproof rum. He finally succumbed to alcoholic stupor. He stayed for three days, consuming bottle after bottle, until finally on the fourth day he woke almost sober, with the mother of all hangovers. He fed himself for the first time since Bella.
He was due to go to the Argyle diamond mine but could not bear to do this work without her. Instead he drove slowly back to Katherine, the nearest thing he had to a home at his empty flat. As he unpacked the car, a mechanical going through the motions, he found her passport.
It was funny how these things refused to die and lie with their owners; he still had the Elfin one which also should have been left behind to mind its owner. But now he had it he would now cast it away, it was so precious as it bore her image. So he found a small tin box and placed the two passports side by side in this box, mementos of lost loves. The box went behind his car seat to travel on with him to wherever came next.
A month passed, then another. Life had lost its flavour. Only the sense of the crocodile spirits remained and, in a strange way, he treasured them. He could not blame them; they were his totem after all. He found a small comfort in the togetherness of his soul and hers, linked through the crocodiles. Increasingly his mind turned inwards to this place.
Lost Girl Diary Page 25