Her father particularly loved to take her with him in the autumn, when the leaves were golden. They would head off, his gun in hand, hunting pheasants, grouse, rabbits and sometimes deer.
They would walk for miles across the high heather, plunging into glens, dark and mysterious. Sometimes they made a big fire out of turf and almost-dry branches, which smoked then burned brightly, while they roasted rabbit and ate it with their hands.
These were warm memories. Now he was like a rock; he didn’t say much, but was in her corner. With Mum and Tim she would talk about ordinary life, but Dad was just there.
Edward made a few attempts to contact her, but Susan told her parents she wouldn’t take his calls and that she didn’t want to see him.
One day Edward came to the door with a bunch of roses.
She heard her father say, “Lad, are you a bit thick? Can’t you tell she doesn’t want to see you?”
Some smart arsed reply came back.
Then, “If you come again I will wipe that smile of yer pretty boy face.”
After Dad had closed the door, Susan hugged him fiercely. His normal mild manner was creased in a scowl and he muttered, “Fucking wanker. Good riddance,” before he returned the hug. She knew then that he had never really thought that Edward deserved her, but had refrained from saying so.
After this she got one letter from Edward. She burned it, unopened, and that was that. So much for a relationship that had consumed over four years of her life.
With Edward gone, her life felt very hollowed out, but she buried herself in her work and gradually started to re-connect with old friends. Three months after the break-up, Susan was looking at a couple mags, one with pictures of an African safari and one with sparkling photos of the Great Barrier Reef.
That was it, that night after several hours of Googling she had plans made. Next day she booked her holidays and flights. Now, a further three months on, she was on her way, four glorious weeks in Australia: first the reef, then Sydney, and lastly the outback.
Susan felt, deep down, that this was something she had waited to do all her life and, that when she came back, she would have really grown up and have left those bad memories behind.
The one thing that she had really missed in the last few months though was sex. Susan felt like she wanted to meet a real man. Perhaps she would meet an Aussie bloke, someone rough and tough from the outback and this part of her would come alive again.
She stretched out again, ran her hands through her thick black hair, feeling herself purring like a kitten, all warm inside at the thought.
Chapter 3 – Cairns and Reef – Days 2-4
Susan had loved her day in the air. It had been a total chill out after the dreariness of English weather. She had felt cold to her bones, when outside, and roasted in the overheated labs and family house after she had left Edward.
Then, just as spring was beginning, the idea for a holiday had come. It was like a light turned on in her brain, something to look forward to and focus her daydreams on.
But it was another three months of hard work until she was free to leave. Endless hours spent getting reports up to date and cross-checked on thousands of laboratory sample test results. Computers were fine, but real human brainwork was required to interpret decisions on many findings. No one could delegate her responsibility to review these reports. Not to mention validation and quality control for the laboratory, done behind the scenes.
As she ground her way through this work Susan longed to be in the outdoors, relaxing in comfort. She would picture herself walking along deserted beaches, sand and warm water squelching between her toes, blue sea, gentle waves and shady palms along the edge. It was a romantic and exotic mind space that she used to feed her motivation.
Once airborne Susan let all that English dullness slide away. She watched movies, she flicked through magazines with those same holiday destination pictures she was dreaming of, read cheap trashy novels of others’ adventures, and chatted to passengers. Most were heading out for similar adventures that she felt sure would come her way.
Sometimes Susan just sat in solitude, enjoying the splendid isolation of being herself; alone, nothing to do, no-one to answer to.
The pilot announced that they were half an hour out of Cairns and beginning their descent. The route south from Japan would bring them over the reef with sights of the corral atolls.
Susan pressed her nose to the window and marvelled at the white sands, little islets and the multicoloured waters they passed over, starting as tiny dots in a picture book image; then, as the height stripped away, they became clear and sharp. She was able to make out tiny waves and occasional boats.
The plane banked hard and turned into its final approach. Susan was now looking at dark green forest-covered mountains, with flashes of water in streams and falls. This view too fell away as they settled into their descent. Glimpses of roads and ordinary houses flashed past as they came over the tarmac and landed with barely a bump.
Cairns was less hot than Susan expected, but then she remembered it was winter here. As she stepped out of the airport building, wearing a short sleeved top and light skirt, she felt a warm breeze caress her skin. It was good to be here, almost dreamy good, but with that light buzz and thrill of anticipation that comes with new discovery.
There were innumerable backpacker buses, all touting their wares, along with taxis and regular shuttle busses to the city, but the day was still early so Susan felt no hurry.
While Susan inclined to do the backpacker thing, she knew she could well afford a hotel for a night or two. She liked the idea of a bit more solitude yet. It was barely 11 am, so she had the whole day to sightsee and look around before she needed to find a place to stay.
Susan caught a shuttle bus to the city centre. By the time she arrived there she had decided that a hotel for two nights was the way to go. She booked herself into a mid-range discount offering: two nights with breakfast thrown in for only 100 pounds. That was all she needed, her base.
She left her bags and set out walking along the fringing beach promenade past the city, barefooted with sandals in hand. Before long a side path led her to the seashore. Susan found herself standing in clear water, the waves frothing and bubbling as they spilled over white sand. Wavelets washed around her ankles and little fish nibbled at her toes.
She stood soaking it in for some time. Then, as the sun was starting to burn into her fair English skin, she decided it was time to go uptown for ice cream, sun-cream, reef tour booking and lunch, in that order.
She gazed out across the low sea horizon for one final minute of enjoyment, before running her fingers through her abundant black curly hair. She felt in her bag for a hair tie; then a second thought, I am free, let it be free too.
Back on the promenade, a solitary tall figure could be seen, also gazing out to sea through a filter of green leaves. Susan felt unspoken kinship, stranger to stranger.
Walking leisurely along the foreshore Susan passed an ice-cream stall. She bought a double mango and cream in a cone and continued on her way, licking at the ice cream as it melted and trickled over her fingers.
Susan stopped in front of one of the innumerable tour shops, complete with big gaudy posters of Green Island Underwater Coral Viewing, Jet Cat Outer Reef Tours, Michelmas Cay by Sail, Steam Trains to the Rainforest, and so on. She picked up a handful of brochures and sat on a shady bench outside to peruse them while she finished the last of her ice cream. She licked off her fingers, finishing those last delicious drops and read what was on offer.
There was too much information; confusing to someone who barely knew the time of day out here, so she went inside seeking assistance. A helpful guide suggested that, with only two days in Cairns, an outer reef tour for day one and a train trip to Kuranda for day two was a good plan. He also booked her a bus ticket on to Townsville after the train returned on the second day. From there she could catch the Magnetic Island ferry.
Her idea to go to Magnetic Isla
nd first came from reading about it in Captain Cook’s discovery voyage. Then a girlfriend told her about this same quiet island where she had a lovely few days in a backpacker hostel, sitting right on the beach, including meeting a hot German tourist. Perhaps a place to start her own love life again, or at least relieve that ache of desire, which sprung up when she thought of Edward—the bastard!
As she left the tourist shop she was vaguely aware of a tall man, with a distinctive eagle motif cap and sunglasses, brushing past her. Susan, abstracted by her thoughts, imagining her travels, barely looked his way.
A steak and glass of wine were her lunch at a local café. They left her feeling warm and sleepy. She made her way back to her hotel and fell onto the bed in her cool shaded room.
She woke as dusk was falling; she blamed jetlag for her three hours of afternoon sleep. She felt mussy and her mouth was dry. Susan found a mineral water in the bar fridge and went onto the balcony while she sipped it in the dusk. Susan decided to pass on going out tonight, as she planned to be early away to the reef, and the bed had felt so good.
The bathroom had a Jacuzzi style bath in front of a large mirror. She eyed it thoughtfully then let the taps run. When it was half full of steaming water, Susan took a bottle of sparkling wine from the fridge and filled a glass with bubbles. She tossed off her light dress and knickers and stood, examining herself in the mirror.
Thick dark wavy hair framed her fair English complexion. Oval face, small nose and pointed chin. She was of average height, as a teenager she’d wished to be taller, but she liked her body now. The smallish well-shaped breasts, round hips and slender legs drew occasional catcalls, particularly from behind, when she walked down the street.
Most striking were her pale blue eyes, a Nordic feature that did not quite gel with her Mediterranean hair. They were the colour of a milky blue tropical sea—this morning’s sea. Her more poetic friends said the colour was that of an English summer sky bathed in bright sunshine. Men loved her eyes. Perhaps a Spanish sailor, wrecked with the Armada, had found his way into the family Anglo-Saxon gene pool. She did not think herself riveting, but liked the package and felt good about herself.
Susan was never short of men trying it on; but that meant men liked only one thing she had to offer. She wanted a bit more depth. In hindsight, her relationship with Edward had a big shallow edge. For now, a man to pleasure her would suffice. Deeper things could wait.
Before she stepped into the bath, she rang room service and ordered salt and pepper squid—the house specialty. On being told of a half hour wait, she plunged into the bath. Water up to her neck, Susan lay dreaming as she glanced through mags with pictures of rainforest, fish, exotic animals and Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bubbles of her wine slowly fizzed on the tip of her tongue.
Before she knew it the bell rang for room service. Susan dried quickly, donning a bathrobe, and then the door was opened and food brought in. By the end of dinner she was struggling to stay awake, that cursed jetlag, but what the hell. Leaving the plates, she cast her bathrobe aside and fell, naked, onto the bed and into a deep dreamless sleep.
She woke cold at 3 am. She snuggled under the covers with a novel until faint light on the horizon told her the new day was come. She stood on her balcony watching the sky go through its colours, deep purple with pink edges, then reds and oranges, and finally that brilliant gold as the sun burst over the horizon, somewhere far out in the Pacific Ocean. It offered the promise of excitement for a brand new day.
She had a quick shower then found her bikini, the pale blue skimpy one that Edward had bought her on a trip to Greece. He had loved it because he said she looked “So-o Sexy” and it particularly matched the colour of her eyes, it was the almost cornflower blue of a tropical sea. It was the one thing from him that she still had. She liked it and would keep it.
Susan admired herself in the mirror. She had to admit, even if she felt vain for thinking it, that she did really look good in this bikini, it worked for her. She liked the idea of being eye-catching for handsome blokes on the reef tour. Then, feeling a bit self-conscious at the direction her imagination was taking, she put on a T-shirt and shorts.
She came down at 7 am to the breakfast café in the hotel lobby. Boat departure was 8:30, so she ate well, but with purpose—resisting the temptation to dawdle over the papers.
Soon she was heading out, with an underwater camera and backpack of tourist accessories.
Susan had gained her diving qualification with Edward in the Mediterranean. Now diving was a great love, that separate underwater world, completely removed from all else.
On the wharf she joined a hundred other passengers milling around. Someone checked her ticket and asked her whether she wanted to participate in snorkelling or scuba diving. She said yes to both, and her name went on the list for the second dive.
Soon they were motoring slowly across the glassy water of the sheltered bay. The captain came over the intercom giving an outline of their day: an hour and a half to the outer reef where the best coral was to be seen, five hours of free time to swim, dive, and enjoy, home by 5 pm.
Everyone was fitted with masks and flippers. For the divers there was a check of existing qualifications and an introductory brief to the day’s dive from their dive master. It was followed by an instruction to assemble on the back deck at 11:15 for an 11:30 dive.
Now, outside the port, the jet engines powered up to a throaty roar. The Jet Cat surged across the wave tops of the half metre south-easterly swell. Susan felt the wind and salt spray whip her face. It was exhilarating and felt good to be alive.
The intercom announced that tea, coffee and biscuits were available, along with reef videos to show people what they may see. Susan was so absorbed by videos of fish and corral that she barely noticed the trip or the other guests. It seemed too soon when she felt the motors slowing as they nosed into their pontoon; it was arrival on the outer reef.
She had an hour for a snorkel before she had to be back for the dive. She was almost first in the water. The tide was low. She felt protected in the shallow water around the fringing reefs.
Susan kept the boat in sight and slowly worked her way around, trying to identify and keep a count of the myriad different fish types she saw. She was blown away by colour. She loved the different corals and the homes they formed for fish. The highlight was a large stingray, more than a metre across; it slowly flapped on its way above the sandy sea floor, stirring up little sand eddies in its wake. Then, seeing the divers from the first group returning to the boat, she realised her hour must be almost gone. She swum back and boarded.
There were two instructors and ten divers in her group. They were broken into groups of two, buddies for the dive, to stay together and watch out for each other. Her buddy was a lanky man, probably in his early thirties, lean and fit without the body builder look.
“Hoho,” he mumbled, as he fumbled with his snorkel fitting, “I’m Mark.” He held out his hand and she grasped it, a firm strong hand, callused from manual work.
“Susan,” she replied. She liked his smile, friendly and composed, not trying for over-the-top charm excess, a person who kept his own counsel. She thought the accent was probably Aussie—not really definite; perhaps he had lived or worked elsewhere.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “got my ticket in the Med a couple years back. I love it. You?”
“A long time ago, so I am a bit rusty. Looks like you will be bringing me up to date.”
They went off the boat deck into the water, a second apart. They swam side by side, following the lead instructor a few metres ahead. They swam slowly, slowing their breathing to an even pace as they relaxed. Mark waved to her and she signalled back, “All good.”
The instructor pointed to his left, down into a big hole in the reef, where there was a huge cod, guarding his patch. Small brightly coloured fish swam around its massive head, staying just out of reach. Susan felt her face break into a smi
le at the cheekiness of the little fish. Mark seemed to be grinning too. They swam on. She noticed a disguised power in his long body; he diverted slightly then rocketed back towards her with powerful kicks.
The hour passed much too fast. It seemed only minutes before they were back at the boat. But wow, so much to see in this place: turtles, huge reef fish lazily working around the deeper holes, a group of white tipped reef sharks scouting the reef’s edge, and so, so many brilliant fish and corrals. She completely lost count of all their types, but just loved it all.
Susan could not help watching Mark as he pulled off his wet suit top. He had lean hard muscles and a scar, several inches long, running high across his back and shoulder. She turned away before he looked around, putting her own gear in the tub.
Then he was standing alongside her, and he looked at her. “Don’t know about you, but I am starved. Are you travelling with others or do you want to join me for some lunch?”
“No, just me, yes let’s have lunch.”
They both piled plates high with prawns, ham, salad, and bread rolls. They found a table with two seats facing. For the first few minutes they were both too hungry to talk, as they crammed their mouths.
Then she noticed he had stopped eating. She looked up from a huge bite as he smiled. The smile crinkled around the edges of his eyes. Captured in that moment he was striking.
“Looks like you needed that; must have been even hungrier than me,” he said.
Her mouth was too full to reply. She pointed to her mouth and they both laughed.
Soon they were both talking together, the way complete strangers do, exchanging details about lives, trips, plans, work; he had just come across from the Kimberley after a stint in the mines.
It appeared Mark was a jack of all trades: stockman, miner, bush mechanic—mostly in the outback but he knew big cities like Sydney and Melbourne as well. He had also spent time overseas, in the Middle East and Africa, but with a couple trips to Europe and England. So now the accent made sense.
Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3 Page 2