As they walked, Tom asked about her, about her work and how she lived. He was aware of the world outside – perhaps he had a radio to
listen to the news – but had no real feel for it. Computers and the internet fascinated him. He must have arrived in Port Bruce before they had become so widespread and was only theoretically aware of the changes that interconnectivity had brought. He was also curious about the economy of living in a city in a cold country. The cost in time and work of merely staying alive seemed irrational to him.
They had gone home with a short length of ship"s cable for Mr Hing – he would turn it into a useful hank of string for tying plants up in the garden, and an orange plastic fishing float for her. It had „fabricado en Chile" moulded into it and she would hang it from one of her veranda posts.
Port Bruce was becoming familiar. As she rode her bicycle around town or went for her shopping, people recognised her and said „G"day" out of friendship. Now there were places she could go and be welcome. She could visit Des in the Bazaar – her special friend since had refused any more rent for her bicycle. She could drop in on Byrnsie. There was the library for a quiet read or internet access. And she had found her way in to Marilyn"s place, and she was always ready to stop whatever she was doing for a cup of tea.
She had given her first dinner party. Walter, Tom and Mr Hing had sat solemnly around her little table while she cooked pepper steak and
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sweet potatoes. It was a struggle on her little gas burner but it had been a success . Tom had eaten like a horse and two bottles of red had
disappeared.
She persuaded Des"s wife to hem her a couple of sarong lengths of batik, and while she was at it, she ordered two shorter sarongs. A tasteful black and white bamboo design for Rupert, and wild tropical flowers for Tom. Tom was embarrassed to receive his and for a moment she
thought she had misjudged his taste in colours. But he had stepped back into the house to change and spent the rest of her visit happy in his new finery. Rupert"s sarong lay folded on the shelf, waiting for his arrival.
Slowly she had realised she was waiting. Waiting for something to happen, or someone to take charge and tell her what to do.
Then the day came when Marilyn had driven to her house and they
had gone with Tom in her boat right around the Port Bruce headland as far as Mission Bay. On the seaward side, the hills behind the town fell straight to the sea in a jumble of towering granite boulders. They had trolled all the way there but caught nothing, and Shirley was glad to see the sand and palms of Mission Bay. Tom brought them ashore in the centre of the beach. Arriving from the sea made it look even more beautiful.
“God, I love this place,” said Marilyn as she climbed out of the boat. “I"m going to swim. Mind if we skinny-dip, Tom?”
“Er – no. No problem, go ahead,” said Tom and busied himself carrying the anchor up the beach.
Marilyn pulled her top quickly over her head and dropped it into the boat. Her shorts followed – she was not wearing anything else. Shirley copied her and watched Marilyn run to the water. Poor Marilyn, she thought, she hardly has a figure at all. Square and thick waisted, just like a man, and her breasts were only just distinguishable from fat. Perhaps that was just Marilyn, and she lived somewhere in the space between male and female. Shirley ran after her and splashed down beside her in
the shallows.
“Not swimming?”
“No – there might still be some stingers around.”
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“Stingers?”
“Yes. Jelly fish. The bastards can really hurt you and you wouldn"t want to be in deep water if that happens. You"d probably drown yourself in panic.”
They were lying on their backs side by side, half floating and resting on their elbows.
“I love this place,” said Shirley. “It"s so – I don"t know – romantic, I suppose. Just like a tropical beach is meant to be.”
“Yup, they don"t get much better than this.” She looked around. Tom was walking away from them, ankle deep along the water"s edge. “Looks like old Tom is too shy to join us. That"s a shame. Probably afraid you"ll make him lose control. Does he have a girl friend?”
“I haven"t heard of anyone. He just lives by himself.”
“By himself, you reckon? Mmh. You should have a go at him. He looks pretty dishy to me, and I"ve given up men for life. I don"t know why I came along. If you"d been here alone, he could never resist you.”
“Don"t forget Rupert.”
“He"d have to be good to beat Tom.”
Shirley watched Tom"s figure diminishing as he walked away. Rupert and Tom. She could not imagine two men so completely different.
Marilyn drove her to the plane that afternoon and she spent the night in a backpackers" hostel in Cairns.
Rupert looked terrible when he finally wheeled his trolley into the arrivals area. He had not slept and it showed in his eyes. She led him back to the backpackers and left him to sleep until mid afternoon. She would be able to show him Cairns in the evening, and they would catch the plane to Port Bruce next day.
Rupert was still dazed as they flew along the coast. His clock had been so completely up-ended that he was existing in semi-consciousness. Unfulfilling catnaps were no substitute for the good sleep his body needed.
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Chapter 9
Marilyn leant back against the roo bar of her ute and waited. Shirley would be flying in soon, and bringing her boyfriend with her. Floozy whimpered from the tray, but Marilyn was thinking and ignored her.
Shirley had been in Port Bruce for three weeks now, or may be a month, and Marilyn was getting used to having her around. A month ago, and she had been standing just here, watching a fresh-faced tourist drag her suitcase across the grass. She had looked hot and sticky, and she looked lost. For all that, Marilyn saw something interesting about her, and she had been happy to help out.
Shirley had settled in quickly. She had bought herself a straw hat with a sensible wide brim, and cut a hole in the back of it to accommodate her pony tail. The heat did not seem to bother her, and she got around town on an old bicycle. Now she had already turned Johnno"s old house into a home and was living there like a local. She had even learnt to drive his boat, and looked quite the part as she puttered up and down the river.
It was good to have a city type around, if only to remind you what you weren"t missing. She certainly knew her way around a computer, and Marilyn reckoned she could be a real help in a town where hardly anyone had made it into the 21 st century yet. If only she could be persuaded to stay...
That was the problem with outsiders, of course. They"d turn up in town and get all enthusiastic about the place, about how beautiful it was and how relaxed. They would talk about „a laid-back life style", which annoyed Marilyn. Stuff did not fix itself, and there were no mechanics" shops or plumbers in town. She did not feel at all laid back after a day spent crawling under her truck trying to find
an oil leak.
Anyway, the outsiders would be all steam and enthusiasm until the day they suddenly disappeared. From one day to the next, Port Bruce would go from being picturesque and charming to just
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boring. They never gave themselves a chance to let the moss grow. She wished Shirley would not be like that, but she had to wonder.
Now Shirley was bringing her boyfriend from London, a stockbroker type apparently, by the name of Rupert. Rupert! No one was called that anymore. She remembered that her Gran kept some ancient comic books about Rupert the Bear – maybe that was where the name came from. She was prepared to dislike the man just for his
name.
Suddenly she heard the plane, and there was a small orange Cessna rolling into view from behind the trees. It fussed up to the apron area and coughed into silence. Now she would s
ee what the boyfriend looked like.
He was easy to recognise. Tall and thin, he looked sickly white. He wore a white shirt with the long sleeves rolled up, baggy drill shorts cut just above his knees and, worst of all, leather sandals with socks. He was looking uncertainly around as Shirley led him across the grass.
“Hey, Marilyn. Good to see you.” Floozy barked happily from the tray. “And you, you old sook. Miss me?”
“You"d be Rupert, I suppose,” said Marilyn, thrusting out a hand for him to shake. “Good flight?”
“He"s still jet-lagged,” explained Shirley. “Doesn"t realise where he"s landed yet. I"m going to take him home to bed. I know I wasn"t much good to anyone for a couple of days after I arrived. Get off, Floozy!” She was stowing her small bag in the ute, while Marilyn grabbed Rupert"s suitcase and swung it up.
“Jesus, Rupert, what"ve you got in here? Shirl said you"re only staying a week.”
“Er – ten days. I didn"t know what to bring. I think I might have packed too much.” He sounded very English, with a posh sort of accent.
“Reckon you might have done, mate. You don"t need much here. Just shorts and a shirt, but Shirl"s got all that figured. She"s just about a local already. Hey, Shirl, Byrnsie said to tell you to bring your washing around. You can use the machine there. You don"t want to
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end up doing laundry for two in a plastic bowl. Besides, it uses too much water. Now, we going to put Rupert in the back, or will we just squeeze up?”
They clambered up into the Landcruiser and Shirley settled astride the gear stick. She looked excited and happy to be back in Port Bruce. She sat with her arm along the back of the driver"s seat.
Marilyn got comfortable and was conscious of Shirley pressed gently against her. She stood on the clutch and fired up the ute. Before she could move out, she felt Shirley grab the back of her hair to give her a shake. “Nice to see you, Marilyn. It"s good to be back ”.
“You"d better watch yourself, girl. Get too comfortable here and you"ll never leave. Unless you go troppo and we have to ship you out in a strait-jacket.”
Marilyn took them to the beginning of the footpath into Shirley"s house, but she did not stay for coffee. Tomorrow would be Friday, and she would see them both in the club. They would probably want to get Rupert settled, and besides, she needed to finish Midge"s new outfit. She was due in on Monday.
She was feeling jumpy next day. She wanted to do something energetic, not just hunch over the finishing stitches of Midge"s bodice. She took the bike for a run into town, to pick up the mail and maybe get a coffee at Lulu"s.
Des was standing outside the post office, leafing through his mail. “Hey, Marilyn. You seen Shirley the English girl around?”
“Sure. Picked her up at the airstrip yesterday, but she"s got her boyfriend with her now, so you can forget about trying to get into her panties.”
It took a moment for Des to understand, and he smiled.
“Wouldn"t that be nice! But I don"t know what the Missus would say. Or Shirl, come to that. No – the taxman"s giving me a hard time. I really need someone to go through the paperwork; do you think she"d do it?”
“I guess. I don"t know what she does for a living in London, but she"s a pretty smart kid. I expect she"d be glad of a bit of work.
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I"ll tell her to see you. Don"t be too tight with her though. If she could pick up a bit of work here and there, she might stick around. That"d be good. We could use some smart folk around town.”
“And that"s all you want her for?”
Suddenly she felt upset at him, but she smiled through it. “No – she"s got her boyfriend here. I don"t think she"s my type.” She pushed through to check her mail box.
Perhaps Lulu sensed her mood and left her alone as she sipped at her iced coffee. She sat with her feet on the railings, staring out over the water. The Coral Sea lapped grey on her right, and to her left she was looking up the glassy waters of the Strickland. As she watched, a white dot appeared against the mangrove shadow far upstream. A small boat. It was moving slowly, and leaving no wake. Probably Shirley, with that stupid English outboard of hers. Marilyn slurped the last of her coffee and went to the serving hatch.
“Hey, Lulu. Could you tell Shirl that Des is looking for her?
I"ve got to run. I"ll see her later.”
She gunned the Harley back up the main street, but she still did not feel like getting back to the sewing machine. She passed her driveway entrance and carried on to the end of the blacktop. She would go down to Mission Beach. Perhaps a paddle along the edge of the sea would get her back to work again.
The RSL was busy that night. Marilyn was regretting her clothes. Back home, she had the urge to dress up for once. Now she was standing at the club door wearing a loose red top and a wrapround skirt in black leather. She had even put on sandals instead of thongs. She had set her work aside and spent an hour on the veranda getting her toe and finger nails trim and varnished. She felt stupid.
Inside, the usual crowd were at the bar and she braced herself for their comments. No-one noticed, or if they did, they were playing poker. She had been ready to kick heads, and no-one noticed.
Except Shirley. Rupert and Walter were sitting behind their table, but Shirley was free to jump up and give her a hug, shrieking “Marilyn, you"re looking beautiful!”
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“Give over, Shirl, the guys are watching. What you all drinking?”
“No, no. It"s my turn. Gold, I suppose, or is it cocktails tonight? You"re looking so fancy.” They moved to the bar so Shirley could order.
“Cocktail! "Bout the only cocktails you find round here are in the chook pen. And lay off the clothes. I haven"t dressed like this for years.”
“Well, you should do it more often. Did you come on your
bike? That must have been a sight, wearing a skirt.”
“Oh, I tucked it in real well, don"t you worry about that. The guys here all know me, anyway, and they won"t get smart. Don"t want a broken arm, I suppose.”
“Well, I like it. I"m not going to sit you next to Rupert,
though. I don"t want his arm broken either. Come and sit down, he wants to meet you. He"s been bitten all over, and I think he"s getting prickly heat. At least, he was, but Des gave me some powder to cover him in.”
“You saw Des then?”
“Yes, and I"ve got work! It"s great! He"s going to pay me twenty-five bucks an hour in cash and I have to get everything organised. I think I"m going to regret it. He doesn"t even have a computer and the papers are just sitting in boxes. He hasn"t entered anything since before last Christmas. Come on, let"s get back to the others.”
Rupert and Walter were busy talking. It sounded as if Rupert knew the town Walter had come from, although it must have changed a lot. She remembered Walter telling her that they still had food rationing when he left England, and the Poms had come on a long way since then. Still, it left the girls free to talk.
“Shirl, you"ve never been out to the reef, have you?”
“No. I"ve been meaning to ask you about that. Is it far?”
“Well, it"s a big place, but the nearest reefs are around twenty minutes away. About as near as you can get. Much better here than Cairns, or even Cooktown. You want to come if I can borrow a
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boat? I don"t want to take you in my tinny. I don"t have any shade
and you could fry your brain out there on a still day. You snorkel?”
“A bit, but is it safe out there? Don"t you have sharks?”
“Oh, they"re around, I guess, but you"d have to go looking for them. It"s almost impossible to catch one during the day. You need to be off the reef face at two in the morning. Then you can have some fun. No, you want to worry about the jelly fish more than anything else, and the season"s ending for them. Just
cover up well. How about Rupert? He snorkel too?”
“He doesn"t swim very well, so I don"t know if he has tried.”
“Never mind, I"ll get one of those tubes with a glass bottom, so he can hang off the side and watch. We"re not fishing, so we"ll only be in shallow water anyway. When do you want to go?”
“We don"t mind. Whenever you want.”
“Right. You coming in tomorrow?”
“I could do, but we"re going to Tom Bombadil"s for lunch.”
“Fine. I meet you at Lulu"s for breakfast, and I"ll run you over to Mission Beach, if you like. It"s too far to walk. You"ll still have time to get back for lunch.”
“You haven"t taken me for a ride on your bike for ages.”
“Nowhere to take you, really. Just down to the wharf and back. Tell you what, once Rupert"s gone, next time I go into Cairns, we"ll trailer it down to Cooktown and ride the rest of the way. Like that?”
Next morning, Marilyn rolled out of bed and took the ute straight down to Lulu"s. Shirley and Rupert were already there, with their feet on the railings and mugs of coffee in their hands.
“Hey. Got up early? How are you liking it, Rupert?”
Rupert thought for a moment. “It"s very different. I still can"t sleep properly, and everyone gets up so early here. I don"t know how you manage it.”
“That"s right,” said Shirley contentedly. “Up with the sun. We just had a quick shower and jumped in the boat. It"s a long way to come for breakfast, but some breakfasts are worth it. Let"s order.”
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