by Various
“We don’t have crocodiles in England.”
‘No wild animals?” Georgy questioned, thinking there had to be one or two.
“Unless you count our fearsome hedgehogs. I think someone reported seeing a death adder in a forest one time. Personally I think he was having us on.”
“Where we’re going there’s tons of wildlife,” Georgy said. “You’ll be amazed at all the birds. Thousands and thousands of them. All the wildfowl. You know we couldn’t grow rice up here in the Territory for all the magpie geese. Even the air force couldn’t warn them off. You’ll see the water buffalo, great stupid things. They do a lot of damage. You won’t see a camel, although there are plenty of them on Kalla Koori, but we might get to see a pair of brolgas—that’s the blue cranes—dancing for us on the flats. You don’t have to be scared of the crocs, Liv. Did you know more people die every year from bee stings than they do from crocodile attacks? Anyway, we’re in the dry. It’s September through January when they get really hungry. They’re preparing to breed, you see.”
“I’ll remember that, Georgy,” Olivia said, enjoying the child’s excitement.
Georgy chatted on happily, clearly seeing Olivia as a friend.
“Have you seen your mother this morning?” Olivia asked in the first pause.
“Mummy never gets up early.” Georgy’s expression abruptly darkened. “She has to have her beauty sleep. Silly old Lucas is up though. He’s dying to go on the trip.”
Oh, dear! That could mean Marigole, whose image for Olivia was marginally less frightening than that of a crocodile, would be going along.
Wear your magic crystal.
No need to tell her that.
“You don’t like Lucas?”
“Don’t care for him at all,” Georgy said with a frown. “He’s smarmy and he’s fat and old. Always trying to get me to like him. I never shall. All Mummy cares about is money. She got millions out of Daddy, the house in Sydney, the penthouse at the Gold Coast, but it’s not enough. She wants everything in the world. Except me. Kids aren’t part of her world, you see. She wants to stay young and beautiful for ever. She told me.”
“But that’s not possible for any of us, Georgy. Life is a journey. We age and move on. Eventually we have to move aside for the next generation.”
“I know that,” Georgy cried with high emotion, showing Olivia another side of her, “but Mummy doesn’t. When I’m not hating her I feel very sorry for her.”
“You can’t hate your mother, Georgy,” Olivia said gently, having missed her mother all her life.
“I can!” the child shouted, then turned and ran out of the room.
They were out on the four-mile billabong, Carlee Waters, a great glittering sheet of water shaded on either bank by massive trees laced with the native honeysuckle, side by side with the ubiquitous stands of pandanus. Day after day, since her arrival, had dawned brilliantly fine, peacock-blue skies. This was, after all, the dry. And today was no exception. As Georgy had promised there were birds everywhere—flying, floating, wading, playing. Ducks, egrets, the infamous black and white magpie geese, the graceful blue cranes—though none danced for them—and legions of white ibis. There were great flotillas of blue lotus, the birds poking their long necks into the succulent bulbs. Lucas had his very expensive camera out, taking photograph after photograph, crying out after each, “Jolly good shot!” like a man on a golf course. On these occasions Georgy gave Olivia a conspiratorial smirk. Her good mood had been restored. Probably because her mother had elected to stay in bed and nurse her hangover.
Clint moved back to where Olivia, Georgy and Chloe were seated. His hand descended on Olivia’s shoulder, tightening over the delicate bones. She turned up her beautiful face to him, blue eyes shining. He was deeply involved with her now. Extremely concerned Marigole had caused her further upset. Mercifully she looked quite serene. He pointed towards a tree alight with scarlet blossoms. “Snake python. It’s just about to enter the water.”
Olivia followed the direction of his pointing finger. The huge python had to be at least fourteen to fifteen feet long. It slithered across the white sand and swam into the emerald-green water.
“That’s just a baby compared to the Queensland amethyst python,” Georgy piped up gleefully. “Isn’t it, Daddy?”
“That’s right, sweetheart.”
Olivia watched with approval as he gave his daughter a loving smile. No man who could smile at his daughter like that could be bad. Or all bad. “They attain around twenty feet and more. One has to steer clear of them. But our snake python is harmless to man.”
“It’s still an awesome sight!” Chloe’s light soprano squeaked. In one way she was enthralled by the wild beauty of her surroundings, in another she was clearly terrified. She wouldn’t have come, only she wanted to please Brendan. But she had expected a much bigger boat. QE2 wouldn’t have been too big. This was a little boat, a fishing boat really.
Olivia, in her big-sister mode, was keeping an eye on Chloe. Brendan certainly wasn’t. It was Clint’s company he most enjoyed. Peter Corbett had come along too. Barbara had elected to stay at home and swim in the beautiful infinity pool. Neil and Celine had had to leave shortly after lunch. She saw Peter was laughing uproariously at one of Brendan’s jokes before beckoning to Clint to rejoin them.
Clint raised a lazy hand. “In a minute.” His golden eyes glittered in the sun’s rays. He let them roam over Olivia, his near-overwhelming desire for her just an inch beneath the surface. “Enjoying yourself?” His glance caressed her.
“This is a fantastic world.” The answering expression in her blue eyes was melting, vulnerable.
“And look, Liv.” Georgy made a grab for Olivia’s hand. “There are our salties! They’re having a snooze.”
“Don’t stand, or go to the side of the boat,” Clint warned with a note of natural authority. “Just sit quietly and look.”
They were about a quarter of a mile downstream, and there in the heat of the afternoon the giant saurians, the largest living reptiles and predators, armoured like tanks, were enjoying time out from snaffling everything in sight—mussels, crabs, fish, snakes, lizards, birds and their cohorts, flying foxes that lived in colonies nearby, all manner of unwary animals and the odd human crazy enough to invade their territory.
Chloe, scared out of her mind and filled with revulsion, muffled an involuntary four-letter word—she appeared to have a store of them—followed up quickly with, “They’re revolting!”
Indeed they were, Olivia thought. Then again they exerted a powerful fascination. These were creatures that had remained relatively unchanged for more than two hundred million years. They had roamed the earth with the dinosaurs. Probably ate a few of them along the way.
“Sit still, Chloe,” Clint repeated more sternly, thinking what a silly little thing Brendon had got mixed up with. “You’re perfectly safe. Crocs aren’t just good for expensive handbags, belts, shoes and luggage, the tails of the young crocs actually taste good. More like pork than fish.”
“I’ve read that.” Olivia took a hold of Chloe’s rigid hand, willing her to relax. Georgy, following Olivia’s example, took the other.
“We’re going to have a feast of fresh barramundi tonight,” Clint promised. It eased his heart to see his young daughter getting on so well with Olivia. Georgy had had little of her mother’s company growing up. Olivia obviously had great rapport with the young. She was a deeper, finer, more compassionate woman altogether. She would make an excellent mother. He knew, when the time came, he would struggle to let her go. The end of her stay was still a long way away, but the time would fly by on gilded wings.
“See all the little ripples in the water, Liv?” Georgy was crying. “Barramundi.”
“The finest-eating fish in the world!” McAlpine pronounced.
“But then you’re a Territorian, Daddy!” Georgy looked up at her father with great love and pride. He was simply the best father in the world. And the most handsome.
/> Olivia, looking on, realised she had felt exactly the same way about her father. McAlpine’s manner, however, was much warmer, much more openly loving. That was his great gift.
An hour on and they were ready to return to the waiting helicopter.
“I’ve enjoyed this afternoon enormously,” Olivia said, her expression mirroring the extent of her pleasure.
“Wish I could say the same,” Chloe whispered from behind her hand. “It’s way too wild for me. Those crocs! And the bats! Gosh, they stink, the ugly black things.”
It was Clint who was navigating at this point, taking over from the skipper. He was keeping close to the near bank, while the skipper and Peter took care of the splendid barramundi catch.
Chloe stood and stretched, enormously relieved it was all over. Ironic, then; it was at this point all hell broke loose. A great flight of white cockatoos, the sentinels of the wild bush, screamed down the billabong like jets at an air show.
“Sit down, Chloe,” Olivia cried out sharply as birds started to stream past the boat. “Sit down.” What a time to be standing there, shaken and breathless. Olivia felt a sick, sliding sense of disaster in her stomach.
Yet all would have been well had Chloe shown some common sense, but instead of obeying Olivia, as any sensible person would, she totally lost her head. One might have thought they were war planes screaming down the billabong, instead of birds. Chloe let out a terrified scream as several of the birds tuned into her scream, broke formation and shot through one side of the boat to the other. Chloe continued screaming, holding her hands over her head, as though she was in a Hitchcock movie. Not satisfied, she pitched forward, hands still clasped over her head, stumbled into some loose tackle and sent the feather-light Georgy, who had been staring at her speechless, to reel backwards and, from there, pitch over the side.
“God!”
Olivia scarcely heard Chloe’s horrified cry. She was taut with nerves and an in-flow of adrenalin. Without a moment’s hesitation she dived into the murky waters near the pier, making a grab for Georgy and urging her towards the dinghy that had been swiftly let down and was trailing in the water.
“Fast as you can!”
Georgy needed no urging. A good school-girl swimmer she took off at a pace she had never achieved in her young life, with Olivia, the much stronger swimmer, stroking hard alongside her as her escort, ready and willing to give assistance.
It was Brendan, a big man, who hauled Georgy single-handedly aboard. Olivia went for the dinghy, raising herself high on her arms and clambering in. Above her Clint stood, rifle in hand, his hands perfectly steady even under tremendous pressure, looking down the sights. He wasn’t firing. He was waiting. A heroic figure.
One bullet to the brain. He couldn’t miss.
It seemed to Olivia like an eternity. She dared not turn her head. She just knew a crocodile was propelling itself at great speed towards the vulnerable dinghy with her lying in the bottom of the small craft. Pure instinct told her to trust him. She knew he was a crack shot. She had to trust him to pick the precise moment. No time to pull her out of the dinghy. Her fingers found her magic talisman, closed over the stone. She didn’t feel in the least stupid muttering a prayer for help. This stone had infernal powers.
“Clint, Clint! It’s goin’ away!” The skipper, Milo, was yelling at the top of his voice. “Don’t shoot, man. Clint, please don’t shoot. Don’t kill ‘im. Ain’t his fault. There’s no danger ahead. We’ll get your brave missy into the boat now. Never seen nuthin’ like it. Look at that blue light on the water. Like a spear. Frighten old man croc away.”
It was impossible to get into the house without being met in the entrance hall. Kath was the first to greet them, eyeing the dishevelled party in shocked disbelief and concern. Marigole and Barbara made their appearance within moments, Marigole with her trademark shriek. McAlpine had stripped off his bush shirt to envelop his daughter, exposing a magnificent bronzed torso of lean, hard muscle. Even his flat stomach was clad with muscle.
Milo had found a sarong-type garment belonging to his girl friend for Olivia to wrap herself in. She looked, had she known it, a tantalising sight.
Marigole, as was to be expected, worked herself within seconds into quite a state. Shockingly she didn’t go to her daughter to hug her close. She stood aloof, starting to loudly assign blame. First and foremost to Clint, then Olivia, as though together they were responsible for the incident.
“Shut up, Marigole!” McAlpine turned on her in no uncertain terms. “You don’t think our daughter might need some comfort from her mother?” His whole demeanour was so daunting even the foolhardy Marigole backed off hurriedly.
The most extraordinary thing was Georgy appeared to be in high spirits as though their “adventure” had geared her up several notches.
“I can’t wait to tell my classmates!” she cheered. “It’ll make a terrific story. Liv was just so cool! I reckon she should be given a medal.”
But then Georgy was Territory born and raised and she hadn’t seen the crocodile surging towards the dinghy. Her head was buried against her father’s broad chest. Olivia hadn’t sighted the fearsome predator zooming towards her either, but no way did she find the incident cool. She was very much on edge. So too was McAlpine. Such a grim expression was on his striking face. His mouth was set tight; a muscle along his jaw jumped, those wild-cat eyes blazing away with menace.
Kath moved with alacrity, whisking Georgy away for a shampoo and shower. “Don’t worry about me, everyone,” Georgy called. “I’m definitely OK!”
Thank the gods for that! With special mention of the Ancient One who gave the crystal life! A blue spear, the skipper had said. That made her wonder. And Milo wasn’t the only one to see it. McAlpine had seen it too. Maybe only certain people could take mystic readings?
Brendan was gradually calming poor Chloe, whose tear-laden admissions of guilt Marigole had ignored entirely. Brendan was clearly regretting the fact he had allowed his girlfriend to go along for the trip. He led her away, one arm around her narrow, shaking shoulders. Brendan had arrived in his private plane with their friends Peter and Barbara in tow. Now he agreed to fly Marigole and Lucas back with them to Darwin. They could make their own way from there. Lucas had mentioned taking Marigole for a stay at Queensland’s glorious Port Douglas. Maybe he wasn’t so keen now?
Safely in her room, Olivia all but collapsed against the closed door. She had been fine up until now. Only to be expected that a reaction would set in. Like Georgy she would take a shower and shampoo the dank salt water out of her now-riotously curling hair.
A knock on the door brought her away from it. She turned, then tentatively opened it, prepared to see Marigole and have her start up her wild accusations again. Only McAlpine stood framed in the doorway, as splendid a wild man as any woman was likely to lay eyes on. He hadn’t even bothered to find a shirt. Obviously there were far more important things on his mind.
“I just had to check you’re OK?” he said tersely. His eyes were moving all over her—her face, her bare shoulders, her tall, slender body bound by the hot-pink sarong.
Sensation poured into her intoxicated heart. What chemistry this man had! “A little shaky, nothing more. You look angry?” In fact, he looked as fierce as any tribal warrior.
“I am angry,” he gritted with a clash of his fine white teeth. “Bren never learns. He lost the one woman he loved, now he goes from one lightweight chick to the other. He should have known Chloe had the potential to freak out.”
“Well, she’s suffering now,” Olivia said. “Poor Chloe. I have to feel sorry for her. It was a tough lesson.”
“Please!” He cracked one fist into the palm of his hand. “I don’t want to hear about, Chloe. She’ll be over it soon enough. None of us puts any blame on her. Georgy is handling this. Thank God kids are so resilient. They can pick up after escaping from the most dangerous situations. It’s you I’m worried about. Marigole is right. I have to take full responsibility for the
whole sorry incident.”
“It’s over, Clint.” Always the peace maker, she sought to soothe him, recognising his extreme upset. Looking after people had been one of his great strengths. “All’s well that ends well, don’t they say?”
He turned on his heel. “I’ll go. You don’t need me here.”
She moved after him, impelled to do so. She placed a gentle hand on his broad, naked shoulder and left it there. “I might look a bit shaken now, Clint, but I promise you this hasn’t put me off. I will go out on Carlee Waters again.” And she meant it. Not quite as easy as getting back on a horse after a bad spill, but she knew she could do it.
He wheeled, high tension flashing off him in currents. “Not with me, you won’t!” he rasped. “Do you even know how I feel?”
“Tell me.” She stared up into his dazzling eyes, as passionate in her way as he was in his.
“Tell? Why don’t I show you?”
He spun her so she had her back to the door, hauling her up against him. His expression was a black scowl, as though he had lost his habitual control and been taken over by his own personal demon. His head, a tousled mass of deep waves, bent low over hers. “I want to make love to you,” he said harshly, in no way loverlike. “I want to make never-ending love to you. I want to make love to you on a scale you can’t even imagine.”
Fierce as he looked, so charged with testosterone, she wasn’t in the least afraid. She might have been as vulnerable to him as the antelope to the lion, but she had never felt so alive or so physically aware—sensations so new to her she found them as liberating as they were overwhelming. She wanted this from the deepest, most primitive part of her being—the part of her that operated on the most basic sexual impulses. God, hadn’t she waited long enough?
His strong arms were lashed around her, though she realised he was only using a small part of his strength. Even so, she twisted her body slightly to ease his hold, an involuntary little cry escaping her throat. Instantly he lessened the pressure. But he wouldn’t let go. She had no wish to break away. Rather, there was no conflict. She was revelling in the sensation of physical helplessness, woman against the dominant male.