“Great,” said Tom. “We"ll get across and once we"ve dropped down slope enough, we should be in dead ground as far as anyone on the road is concerned. Let"s get out of here.”
Moving as fast as the stony creek bed would let them, they hurried across the road and on to the slope beyond. The creek
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started to drop sharply, and Tom led them out of its steep sides onto the hill slope beyond. Here the view opened out and, at last, they could see the flat plains below. In the distance Shirley saw the dark spots of two of the cattle stations, the individual buildings indiscernible. They would have to work their way further across the slope before they could see the third and nearest station.
Shirley felt her heart lift. They were safe from searching eyes, and help was in sight. Tom touched her arm and pointed. There, on the road coming towards the hills, was an arrow of white dust. She could just make out the black dot of the vehicle causing it.
Tom looked thoughtful. “Where is Japan?” he asked.
“Back home, I suppose. He was last night, anyway, and even if he left at first light he wouldn"t be on his way back yet.”
“Mmmh – I want to know who it is. Come on, we got a
while.” He started back up the hill, looking for somewhere to hide.
They waited below an untidy rib of splintered rock, lying flat and uncomfortable on the scree. Tom had grass in his hat again, and he had done the same for hers. From where she lay, Shirley could just see a bend in the road, a loop where it came into view for a few metres before disappearing into the rough ground above them.
Tom passed her the binoculars. “Set them up and then relax. You"ll hear it before it comes.”
It was a long, uncertain wait before Shirley was sure she had heard the truck. The noise came and went as it climbed up the escarpment, sometimes loud, sometimes faint. She settled her elbows and held the binoculars on the corner where the truck would appear.
“It"s coming,” said Tom, and the truck suddenly turned into
view. It was higher than she had expected and she was looking at its roo bar. She lifted her to the face of the driver. There, concentrating on the difficult track, was Marilyn.
Shirley leapt to her feet, slipped on the scree and fell heavily onto Tom.
“It"s Marilyn!” she shouted, gaining her feet again and
waving her hat. “Marilyn!”
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The truck had disappeared from view and they listened to it
continuing on towards the Makepeace.
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Chapter 23
They sat in silence, looking out over the plain below. Marilyn was back in Australia, and she was going to see Japan. Did that mean she had done what Japan had asked? Probably, Shirley thought. She"s been to London, and now she coming to give me a lift home. Only Shirley was not there anymore. She felt the hand cuff around her wrist. Marilyn would be catching Japan at his worst.
Tom passed her the water. “Let"s change the plan,” he said. “She"ll probably be coming back in two or three hours. If we find a good place, we can hole up near the road and wait for her.” It was not much of a plan, but it was better than spending the rest of the day marching. They set off again, picking their way across and down the slope, looking for a place that would hide them and still allow them to watch the road.
Shirley woke with her back to a rough boulder. Tom had shaken her awake. “Better get down to the road. We don"t want to miss our chance.”
They had taken refuge behind an outcrop of rock. There was a good view of the road coming down the escarpment. It passed by not too far below them, but they wanted to be sure that Marilyn would see them this time. Shirley would have to hide nearer to the
track. Carefully, she picked her way down from their eyrie and lay on her stomach in long grass near the road. She had brought a eucalypt branch, freshly broken from its tree, and as Tom had told her, she laid it over her legs and body as camouflage.
The sun was hot on her back and arms, and insects were buzzing around her. It was uncomfortable and the stony soil hurt her elbows. She was watching a black ant in front her, wandering from side to side and trying to make up its mind whether it was worth being really annoying to the stupid human lying in its world.
When it came, the engine noise was loud and abrupt. She tensed as she heard it work its way further up the valley before turning back towards her. She prayed that it would be Marilyn, and
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not Japan come to take her back. Then Tom was shouting “It"s her! It"s her!” and she jumped up and ran into the road, waving her hat.
Marilyn pulled up beside her, a wide smile on her face. “G"day, Shirl. Out for a walk?”
Shirley jumped up on the running board and leaned through the window to kiss her.
“Thank God, Marilyn. The bloody ute wouldn"t start again.”
“Right. I see. And Tom couldn"t fix it?”
“We didn"t know what to do. You never showed me.”
“That"s bloody Ian. He"s promised me a thousand times. Come on, climb in. Where is it anyway?”
Next morning, Shirley rode into town as if she had never been away. Her boat chuckled slowly along, parting the brown water and leaving a gentle wake behind her. The palms and mangroves lifted her spirits. She had come home again and felt pleased to see them. Marilyn had brought her laptop from London, and she would go and see Des about starting work on his books tomorrow. Life was looking up.
As she steered, she turned over in her mind the way Port Bruce had treated her. She was a stranger, new to town, but she had lain awake the night before thinking about all the things people had done for her.
Yesterday Marilyn had brought her home, and never said a word about Tom borrowing her ute. She had taken them both to Shirley"s place, to drop Tom and get Shirley some clean clothes. Then she had taken her all the way home for a shower and a meal. She had wrestled with the handcuff that Shirley was still wearing and, with Ian"s help, managed to saw it through. And at the end of the evening, she made Ian run her home again.
Now Shirley had the question of a present for Tom. If she was in debt to Marilyn, how much more did she owe Tom? He had spent days watching over her, lying out during the day and sleeping rough at night. He must have paid for petrol for the ute, and that would have been a burden. He had risked serious trouble with Japan
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and his men by coming on to the dredge to fetch her. She had to get him something, but what?
Marilyn was already at Lulu"s, chatting over a coffee. “You"d better get yourself a proper motor, Shirl. You could die of hunger waiting for that thing to get here.”
“But I like my motor. Walter says it"s a classic, and anyway, it does start when you need it.”
“A low blow, Shirl, a low blow. Anyway, I"m driving Ian"s ute this morning, and he"s under mine right now. He"s had a new relay all along, just didn"t get round to fitting it. At least he was embarrassed when I explained what happened to you yesterday.”
“Yes, well, it was an experience, I suppose. It"s not every day you get a guided tour through the bush from Tom, with adventures thrown in. I felt as if I was in one of those TV shows – Survivor or something.
“I felt really stupid when I saw you driving up. I could have stayed there and had breakfast instead of wandering through the bush. How was Japan, anyway? I didn"t like to ask last night, with Ian around.”
“Spitting tacks. I told him, what do you expect if you grab some-one and keep them locked up? Of course you"d try and escape. He wasn"t listening. He doesn"t care about you one way or the other
- he didn"t even bother looking for you – but you made him look stupid. Or so he thinks.”
“Not good, huh?”
“No, definitely not good. You"d better keep away from him for
a while, or he"ll do something stupid to you for sure. He"s happy enough for the moment, because I got him what he wants from London, but he won"t forget.”
“How was London? I mean, not the Tower and all that
stuff. How were the pensions?”
“Well, Shirl, I think you"ve been lying to me all along. I thought the Poms were going to be all educated and cultured, and that sort of stuff. Instead, Rupert took me to his office and, I tell you
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what, they"re worse than Japan! They treat Rupert like a worm, and they"re a bunch of thieving bastards on top of it all.”
“Really?”
“You can bet your pretty little arse on it! I got Rupert to take me to his big boss, and he would have robbed the shoes off my feet. Smooth and polite with it, but you"d better count your fingers after you"ve shaken hands.
“You should see his office. Talk about classy – I felt a real redneck in there. I wouldn"t have got in at all if I hadn"t been carrying $600,000 in cash. That got his attention.”
“$600,000 in cash! I would have been scared to death. Just as well no-one tried to steal it, or Japan would go spare.”
“But they did! Rupert"s big boss, Mr Jeremy Bradley-Smythe, tried to lift the lot. Just as well I was there; if Rupert had gone by himself, they would have eaten him for breakfast. But me and Jeremy got sorted out in the end.”
“Tell me more,” begged Shirley. “I"m trying to imagine you in Rupert"s office. They"re quite snooty where he works, so I can"t imagine what the senior members are like. What did you wear?”
“What the hell was I meant to wear? You know me, I don"t
have a stitch that"d suit a city. And it"s cold over there. Bloody freezing. I just wore my leathers and acted like a sort of Crocodile Dundee ignorant bushie.
“Seemed to work on the big boss, though. I think all the leather turned him on. He took me out for a swish dinner in a fancy
restaurant. That wasn"t so bad, especially being driven around in a big Jaguar. Sent me home in it too, but the driver stopped on the way and took me to one of your pubs. That was more my style. Good place, but the beer would take a bit of getting used to.”
“I can"t imagine you living the high life, Marilyn. I mean, not that you couldn"t if you wanted to, but I wonder if the man knew what he had on his hands.”
“Oh, he knew. And if he didn"t know to start with, he certainly figured it out later. He got me what I needed for Japan, and I got a little insurance that he"s not going to just pocket the money.
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“Anyway, enough of that. Shirl, I want to do this email thing. I"ve got his secretary"s address and I want to write to her. Invite her to Port Bruce, maybe.”
Shirley"s ears stood on end. “Marilyn, you"ve been chasing secretaries!”
“No, I haven"t.” Marilyn sounded defensive. “This girl was nice and friendly. I mean, I wouldn"t mind chasing after her, but it wasn"t like that. Just friendly, and she"s interested in Australia. Could we send her some pictures? You"ve got some, haven"t you?”
Shirley decided not to tease her friend. “Of course, we can do that. And I can take some pictures of you, and your house. She"d love that. Is the library open today? I haven"t got my computer sorted yet, but we could go... Wow, look at this!”
Marilyn turned to look at the road. Drawing up to park was a very large black Mercedes, with smoked glass windows. It was covered in dust streaks and the windscreen clearly showed where the wipers could reach. They had left two arcs of clear glass with eyebrows of dust.
“Jesus!” said Marilyn, “I can"t believe anyone would drive a
car like that out here. He must be crazy. Just a day on the dirt would
knock it about. It"ll never be the same.”
Two Asian men were getting out of the car. Dressed in long, dark trousers and white, long-sleeved shirts, they looked completely out of place. The girls waited for them to appear around the end of Lulu"s building.
The men came into the shaded area and stood looking out over the river. One of them, the younger of the two, was wiry and had large, gold-framed glasses. The other looked more solid. He stood a deferential half pace behind the young one, saying nothing.
Who were these people, wondered Shirley? They did not look like tourists, and she could not imagine what could draw city business men to Port Bruce. They went up to the serving window and the young one spoke in Chinese to Lulu. She did not answer, and he tried again. Shirley heard Lulu saying, “No – English. English. I Thailand.”
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The young man tried yet again, and this time managed to order. Shirley did not know what language he used, but she guessed it must have been Thai. The men left to stand on the river bank and smoke while they waited.
As soon as they had gone, Lulu hurried to their table with an empty tray. She looked flustered. “You wait here, huh? Please? I not like those men.”
“OK, Lulu, I"m in no hurry,” said Shirley. “Definitely in no
hurry.”
“Yeah, it"s Port Bruce,” added Marilyn. “No-one"s in a hurry.”
“Now, I wonder what all that"s about,” she mused, once Lulu had gone. “I suppose we"ll just have to wait until they leave. Oh well, I"ll be first with the gossip, for a change. Ready for another coffee?”
The younger man ate alone, seated at the far table, looking out to sea. His companion, sat behind him with his back turned and, as he ate, watched the girls and the rest of the room.
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Chapter 24
Marilyn knew what she was looking at. As she sipped at her coffee, she watched the burly Asian eating his fish salad with one hand. He had „minder" written all over him. He sat in a seat that
allowed him to watch the rest of the tables and the parking space beyond. His solid stare passed over the girls with no acknowledgement. He could probably sit and watch like this for the rest of his life, if that is what his master wanted. He slowly finished his meal and sat sipping at a can of Coke, still on guard.
The younger man got up and went again to Lulu"s hatch. In a steady voice, he asked questions and Marilyn could hear Lulu answering in Thai. She could understand nothing until she picked up „Cooktown, Cooktown". And then again „Cooktown!" Abruptly the man turned and left the restaurant. His minder hurried to join him and the girls watched as the young one climbed into the back of the Mercedes and was driven away.
Lulu crept out of the kitchen and came to sit next to Shirley, where she could watch the road. “Bad man,” she said. “Bad Chinese
man.”
“What did he want?” asked Marilyn.
“Chinese man. He wanted Chinese man in Port Bruce. I tell him, no Chinese man here. Cooktown, maybe, but not Port Bruce.”
“A Chinese man?” said Marilyn. “That"s strange. It"s a long way to come looking for some-one up here. Why didn"t he just telephone? No Chinese people around here.”
Shirley jumped up. “Right, let"s see about emailing some pics to your new friend. Want to come in the boat and we"ll go and get my camera?”
“Wow, you"re in a hurry, Shirl. How about I drive you
home? We"ll be all day if we use your boat.”
As they jolted down the track to Shirley"s house, Marilyn was thinking of the future. “You know what, Shirl? Next time I"m driving the grader for Main Roads, I might take a little trip down
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here. You"re getting a touch overgrown. You"d like that? You"ll lose the track if you don"t do something.”
“It"s not that bad, but... Yes, if you wouldn"t mind. It"d look nice, and I was thinking of buying a car.”
“A car? Forget it. You haven"t been here in the Wet yet. Get yourself a four wheel drive or you could find yourself stuck down here for weeks. Can you afford one?”
“Depends. I mean
, if I"m going to stay in Port Bruce, I could rent out my flat in London. It"s not so bad – I should get about £3000 a month. Do you think that"d be enough to live here?”
Marilyn calculated for a moment. “Two and a half dollars to the pound... Shirl, you"d be rich. You can buy a lot of beer for that sort of money. Jeez, there"s a bunch of people in town who survive on that much a year. Old folks, anyway.
“Enough? You serious? You could think about electricity and a phone for your place then. That"d be good.”
Marilyn was conscious of the quietness beside her. Shirley would have to decide where she wanted to live, London or Port Bruce. Having seen them both, Marilyn did not understand what there was to think about. Except Rupert. Rupert could really screw things up.
It took most of the day to take the photos. Shirley posed her in front of her house, in the main street, in front of the Old Bank Building. That dealt with the town. Then they took in the river front and Lulu"s and, because Shirley insisted a tropical beach was essential, drove over to Mission Bay. They finished the afternoon at the library computer, sorting out the photos and setting Marilyn up with an email address.
That Saturday, the Makepeace River caught up with Marilyn again. They had all piled into Marilyn"s ute. Walter was squeezed into the front with Shirley, and Tom sat in the tray with his arm around Floozy. The club"s annual picnic had come around again, and half the town had headed south on the Cooktown road to Coolwater
Creek.
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Marilyn stopped short of the river, dropped the ute into four-wheel drive and swayed upstream through the kunai grass on the river bank, following a freshly crushed track. The other vehicles were parked at the edge of some riverside trees. Marilyn backed into the grass beside them, shuffling back and forward to flatten a space around the ute. Her passengers scrambled out and helped as Tom handed down the eskies and folding chairs.
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