Lavina was also exhausted, but had become rejuvenated when the rain arrived. It was her encouragement that kept Steve going.
"Count the bends, Steve. I bet you there are no more than a dozen bends until we reach the hut."
Grunting, Steve hitched Cathy up again and blinked water out of his eyes. "You're on," he said. "You count them Cathy."
The track was now a path that could be followed easily without needing to find the orange rectangles but tall grass encroached from the sides, so sharp that it scratched their exposed arms and Cathy's feet.
"Bend eight," Cathy called as Steve stepped around another corner. Her voice changed pitch. "I see it," she screamed. "The hut. I see it. Look Steve."
Ahead of them at the bottom of a small zigzag path was a tin roof poking out of the fernery. They had made it.
*
CHAPTER 7
Steve let Cathy off his shoulders under the porch and pushed the door open. A smell of wood smoke and musty air whiffed into his senses. It was cold inside but a streak of afternoon sunlight cut across the floor giving an illusion of warmth. Directly in front was a small living quarters with an ancient blue couch and accompanying chair backed up to a far wall. To their left stood a wooden topped sink and an ancient iron wood stove built in a brick alcove. Wooden cupboards, attached to the walls above the sink held plates and, thankfully, rows of tinned food and dried products in screw topped jars.
A faded sign read, If you've come this far you must be hungry. Feel free to use our supplies if you need to, but consider other trampers who may follow you. Donations of extra food are always appreciated.
"Thank God!" Lavina gasped. She opened the steel door of the wood stove. Inside, all ready to light, was dry wood and paper in a clean interior.
"The fireplace is all made up, too," Cathy called. She stood in her socks shivering but her eyes were excited.
A deep fireplace was set ready to light with a pile of cut firewood stacked on the hearth waiting just for them, it seemed. The rest of the room consisted of an ancient table, three wooden chairs and a dusty oval shaped rug on the wood floor.
Steve pushed open two side doors to reveal bunkrooms with four bunks in each. Everything was dust covered but had obviously been left in a tidy state.
"A shower," Lavina called out from another room. Inside were a porcelain hand basin and an ancient shower box. Two pipes ran along the wall to both of the facilities.
"Hot water." Steve said. "No doubt there is a wetback in the stove."
"What's a wetback?" Cathy asked.
"It's a whole lot of looped pipes at the back of the stove. The water runs through, gets heated and leads onto a hot water tank." He opened a door next to the stove. "Here it is. Just like a hot water cupboard at home. In an hour or so we'll have hot water."
"And the toilet?" Lavina asked.
Steve took her hand and led her outside. A little tin shed a few meters away held a long drop toilet that was, in reality, a toilet seat built over a long hole dug into the ground. Compared with having nothing at all over the previous two days this was a luxury. There was even a half used roll of toilet tissue stuck on a protruding nail.
While Lavina used the facility, the other two walked back inside, lit both fires and removed their wet clothes. Steve's jeans were saturated from the knees down but his shirt beneath the work jacket he had been wearing was only slightly wet under the arms and down the front buttons.
Cathy, though, wore only thin clothes and was drenched where she had been exposed to the weather during her piggyback. She rummaged through the backpack, disappeared into one of the bunkrooms and emerged in dry clothes. With a slight grin, she walked on her heels over to the flaming fire.
"How are the feet?" Steve asked.
"Sore when I put any weight on them." She sat on the mat, rolled off her socks and unwrapped the grubby bandages.
The two smallest toes on each foot were still red and swollen and there were large blisters on the soles of her feet. She groaned and stretched her legs out to warm them by the fire.
"Mum's a long time, I'll go and check." Cathy leaped to her feet and grimaced when she accidentally put weight on her toes. She hobbled to the door and stuck her head out.
"Steve!" A scream of alarm rang out.
Steve was at the door in seconds and saw Lavina slumped on the path in a crumpled heap.
"I'll get her," Steve said brushing past Cathy.
Within seconds, he had his arms under the unconscious woman and hoisted her up to carry inside.
"What's wrong, Steve?" Cathy's face contorted in fright as he laid Lavina on the couch.
Her face was pale but Steve found a racing pulse. "We need to get her into something dry and warm her up," he instructed. "Can you find some of your mum's clothes?"
"Sure."
He found a blanket in one of the bunkrooms, peeled off Lavina's saturated jacket and wrapped the blanket around her. He held her close, rubbing her hands and face. "Lavina," he cried and shook her gently. "Lavina!"
Eyes flickered and opened. "Steve," she whispered. Those hazel eyes he loved so much gazed fondly into his. Her hand squeezed his slightly and her eyes closed again.
"I've got Mum's other jersey and jeans." Cathy stood behind Steve with a look of frustration and helplessness. "A towel, too," she added.
"She'll be okay," Steve reassured her. "I'd say she's just exhausted from the tramp. As long as we keep her warm, your mum will be fine."
"What else can I do?"
"How about looking through that food and finding us something warm to eat." He flicked tired eyes up at the girl. "A hot drink wouldn't hurt either. I'll massage your mum's hands and feet to help her circulation."
Cathy stood still with wide eyes switching between her mother and him. "Why is this happening to us?" She broke into tears. "I mean, Mum has never hurt a soul. She's the kindest person I know. She doesn't deserve this."
Steve stood and tucked his arms around Cathy while the youngster cried. He found a damp handkerchief in his pocket and handed it to her. She blew her nose and turned a tear stained face up to his.
"I'll be okay now," she sniffed. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Cathy. You're a brave young lady." Steve kissed her forehead.
"I'll get something nice cooked up," Cathy said. She stepped back, gave a grateful smile and hobbled over to the tiny kitchen.
Steve turned his attentions back to Lavina who seemed to be relaxed and in a normal sleep pattern now. Her face and fingers were returning to a healthy hue. He bent over and kissed the pallid face, made sure she was as comfortable as possible and walked over to stoke the fire.
By the time the sun had sunk behind the hillside outside the room had lost its chill. Another evening was on its way. Steve pulled faded curtains over the three windows and yawned. He felt weary and plunked into the armchair for a brief rest before going to help Cathy. However, his eyelids refused to stay open. He blinked, Lavina seemed safe and Cathy was humming a little tune as she stirred something in a saucepan. Her profile looked just like her mother. He blinked again and slipped into a peaceful sleep.
*
The beans and bacon bubbled with the rising steam tempting Cathy's taste buds. She smiled and stirred the mixture. If only they had bread to go with it! She found a tiny red kettle in the cupboard, filled and placed it on the back of the stove. The heat warmed her hands and face so before long, her whole body felt warmer than any time since the abduction.
"Supper's up," she called but there was no reply. She turned to see both adults sound asleep. Her mum looked relaxed on the couch with the blanket tucked around her, while Steve was stretched out on the armchair with his head back and mouth slung open. As Cathy watched, his face twitched and a snore rumbled out.
Cathy hobbled back to the main fire, added a couple of pieces of wood to it and returned to the stove. Somehow, she felt at peace as she spooned some beans on a plate and made a cup of coffee. There was even sugar
and powdered milk available, and she sat at the table to enjoy the meal.
An old logbook caught her eye. She reached across and opened it to find entries from visitors going back three or four years. The book was about three quarters used and the last entry was two months old. During the last year, only five groups had made an entry. It appeared that this hut was not used very often. She turned to the front where a typewritten page had been stuck in with a few basic rules. Of more interest was the next double page that showed a map of the area and a brief handwritten comment. The track to the plateau is steep and overgrown with nothing at the top except an unused airstrip.
"Yeah, I know that." Cathy huffed and scooped a spoonful of beans into her mouth. The map showed two ridges with a second hut a day's tramp away. Further west there was a third hut and beyond that another half-day's journey to the only road marked. It was named but unknown to the youngster. She shuddered. It appeared, therefore, they would have to tramp another three days before reaching civilization. She glanced down at her own feet then across at her mother and Steve. That was three days for professional trampers with the proper gear. She shuddered and some of the earlier optimism disappeared.
"At least I have Mum and Steve," she mumbled to herself. She finished the meal and went to run her hand under the hot tap. After the initial cold water turned hot, Cathy gave a sigh of satisfaction, lit two candles sticking out of bottles on the mantelpiece and took the torch to the bathroom where she had a simply glorious shower. The warm water and steam pouring over her weary body removed all those days of grime and her skin became warm and red as she soaped herself down. Even her sore feet felt less tender. Finally, she rubbed herself down, slipped into her pyjamas and walked back to the kitchen to find her mother at the stove.
"Mum!" she called out in delight. "How are you?"
Lavina looked pale but her face lit up. "Fine, sweetheart," she said, reaching across to hug her daughter. "You've done so much. Cooked a meal, kept the fire blazing and even lit the candles."
"Steve helped before he nodded off. God, he snores." She glanced at her mother. "You look a mess, Mum. Why don't you have a hot shower while I reheat our tea."
Lavina smiled. "Sounds like a good idea. And thank you."
"What for?"
"Just being you," Lavina said.
"Awe Mum," Cathy said, blushing.
*
Like Cathy, Lavina found the shower made her refreshed but she still felt woozy and her head throbbed. Suddenly a wave of nausea erupted in her stomach and she just made the couple of meters across the room before vomiting and spluttering into the hand basin. A stab of pain cut across her ribs for several seconds before subsiding. Lavina stared at her gaunt reflection in the tiny mirror. The last thing she wanted was this. It was hard enough on her family without her being ill.
She smiled at her thoughts. Steve was her family now. They were beyond the clandestine affair stage. If nothing else, this crisis had brought them closer together. Funny, she could hardly remember what it was like before she'd met Steve. She frowned at her reflection. Yes, she could. There was that constant feeling of being inadequate, trying to please a man who treated her with disdain, used her as an object to satisfy his own needs, physical or otherwise. Towards the end, his approaches to her became a chore to be endured.
Now there was Steve. She flushed in embarrassment when memories of their lovemaking flowed into her mind. The orgasms she'd experienced were something she never realized would happen. Even when she first met Grant, she had never been aroused in this way. Perhaps this was the first time in her life she had really been loved, not just there to satisfy a man's lust.
Cathy's head appeared through the steam. "Are you all right, Mum?" she called with concern in her voice. "You've been in there for ages."
"I'm fine." Lavina said.
"No you aren't!" snapped Cathy. "I heard you spewing before and I'm going to tell Steve when he wakes up."
"I'm okay, Cathy," Lavina insisted.
"Well, don't try to cover up how you feel. You've always done that."
"I won't. If I feel ill again, I'll tell you. Is that fair?"
"Yes." Cathy raised her eyebrows. "Now, if you want some beans, I've got them waiting for you."
"I'd love something to eat.” Lavina rubbed her wet hair down and walked out into the cosy kitchen. Steve was still asleep and the three candles painted a dancing pattern of yellow around the room. Outside it was cold and dark but at least the rain had stopped. She reached out to wrap an arm around her daughter's shoulders.
*
Noel and Geraldine Capra stared, stony faced as visions of the burned out hulk of the Cessna was vividly portrayed on the midday television news. They were both in the office of Oversee ComSoft after an interview with the police who had left half an hour earlier.
"Only the charred remains of the pilot have been recovered from the wreckage," the reporter said, "It is believed that three other people, two from the pilot's family, were in the Cessna. Police have yet to release the names of the family ..."
"It's all wrong!" Geraldine muttered as she brushed a hand through her hair and frowned.
"What is, Geraldine?" Noel said.
"That plane crashed this morning, Monday, but we know Steve's been missing since Saturday. What happened in the intervening time?"
Noel shrugged. "All I know is that Steve and Lavina were going to contact me on Saturday night. He never answered his mobile phone calls and wasn't at the school when we visited yesterday."
"You heard what the news reports said. Tell me, would Steve be going for a ride with his girlfriend's husband? You know how moral he is. I was amazed when he even began this affair." She gave a brief smile. "It's not that I don't like Lavina"
"And their jeep. The police told us they've found its tyre marks in the yard of Ryland's back drive but it's not there. How could Steve be in the aircraft and have driven the jeep away somewhere? And where is it now?" She threw her hands up in exasperation and stared at her husband. "I believe the police got it wrong. I don't think Steve was in the crash, Lavina or Cathy either."
"So where are they?"
"I don't know. Perhaps Steve absconded with Lavina and Cathy and they're in a motel at the other end of the country. We know he was pretty keen on her. From what I noticed she returned his affections."
"But Steve's as solid as a rock. If he planned to do that, he'd have told us. He's not the sort to do something on impulse. He would have planned it out in the minutest detail."
Geraldine nodded. "Perhaps he did. I still say he wasn't in the Cessna. There was no reason." She gulped. "I think something more sinister has happened."
Noel stood up. "I agree. Come on. Let's go down to the police station. Sergeant Stein said to contact him if we had any information."
*
Detective Sergeant Pat Stein put the telephone down and studied his visitors. "We found Steve Garnet's jeep," he said. "It was parked on the clay road up the valley from Ryland's farm. A deerstalker just phoned in. We've got some personnel on their way up there now.”
"That fits in with my fears,” Geraldine said. "Steve would never drive up there. Whenever he went tramping he walked from the old school. Anyhow, he was going to finish assembling some bunks on Sunday. It's out of character for him to just take off on a walk."
The detective frowned. "Search crews at the crash site now confirm there was only one body, that of the male pilot in the crash. We originally thought bodies could have been thrown out by the explosion." He grunted. "The media were a little enthusiastic in their reporting.”
"So where are our friends?" Noel asked.
"At this very moment a search party is walking into the bush from where the jeep was found," Stein replied. He stood up and held out his hand. “Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Capra. We'll inform you immediately if there are any new developments”.
After the pair left, Pat Stein studied the scant details of the case and glowered. Something was wrong here. He thought
for a moment and reached for the telephone. The call went through several secretaries before he was connected to the person he wanted.
"Do you have a recording of all aircraft movements in the area of the crash site over the last week?"
"Yes,” the chief air controller replied. "The Cessna took off on an unreported flight from the Ryland farm and crashed twenty-two minutes later."
“I'm interested in Saturday sometime in the mid morning. Could your radar have picked up a flight from the same farm if it had taken place?"
"Probably but if the aircraft flew into low valleys and didn't file a flight plan it could be missed," the controller said. "We have quite a few topdressing aircraft in the district. I'll check and get back to you."
Forty minutes later, a call came back from the air controller. "You were right,” he said. "We have a reading from the farm on Saturday morning. A small aircraft flew up to the ranges, disappeared off radar for twelve minutes before being recorded again. Apparently it flew back to the farm where the signal was lost again."
"What's the terrain like up there?"
"Steep bush country but there's a plateau of flat tussock at the top. My map shows an old topdressing airstrip at the top."
Stein whistled over the phone. "Do you have any more details?"
"The radar trace ended above that plateau, De Wolfe's Plateau it's called. It started again at the same place a few moment's later."
"So it could have landed?"
"Yes. Weather conditions at the time were good."
*
CHAPTER 8
Steve awoke, cold and stiff. Two blankets had slipped off and his legs were sticking out. He heard Cathy's gentle snore from the bunk along from his and remembered how she had flatly refused to sleep in the next room. After glancing across the narrow space to where Lavina's bunk was, he realized why he had awakened. It was pitch black but he could sense she was not there. He slipped to the floor, shivering and reached for the jeans beneath his bunk. They were still damp but would have to do. After dressing, he made his way out to the kitchen. It was dark with only a faint red line where a few last embers still glowed in the fire. One window had its curtain pulled back and a narrow rectangle showed as a lighter shade of grey. Steve shut the door to the bunkroom and walked like a blind man across to the mantelpiece. The matches were there somewhere.
Like Twigs in a Storm Page 7