Riverboat Point (10 page)

Jasper barked in response. She stood still a moment looking at the ground in front of her, checking for any more obstacles. Then she realised what no sound meant. Ethan had turned off his music. She'd been so intent on peering at her possible neighbours she hadn't noticed.

Ethan leaned forward in his chair. He'd heard Savannah swear from somewhere down below his house. The noise had been followed by a quick bark from Jasper.

“Steady, mate,” he murmured.

They both sat still, listening. Finally Ethan heard the front door of the shack slide and then back again. Savannah must have been outside walking around. He could just make out the glow from her lounge light and then it faded.

He felt bad now about turning down her dinner invitation. She probably didn't like the solitary lifestyle after living in the city. Ethan relished it. Tonight he'd wanted time alone. He was determined to get his life back on an even keel and making small talk with Savannah would have been too hard.

He eased back in his chair and took another slurp of tea. He hated the taste of it but he was willing to try chamomile again rather than resorting to sleeping tablets. He knew his stress levels had been rising; broken sleep didn't help. He'd been drinking too much, trying to drown out the memories with alcohol and loud music.

Before Blake's accident, he'd been doing really well. He'd said goodbye to the army, moved into his patch of paradise and begun the process of life after deployment. He'd done some part-time work at the garage in Burra. It was a bit of a drive but he did it easily on his bike. He'd been able to help Jaxon with the houseboats even though he had reservations about their proximity to his patch of the river.

But lately things were different and he didn't know why. He had felt the telltale signs getting worse: the tension that built in his chest for no apparent reason and then today that uncontrollable reaction to the can falling from Blake's cupboard. Something had triggered the stress. The psychiatrist had told him he might not always know why.

Ethan knew he couldn't blame Mal for his restlessness, but being with his father had unsettled him. They were opposites. Mal could never accept a son of his had taken up arms, especially in a war he considered Australia should never have been a part of.

Ethan couldn't begin to explain all the good that had been done amongst the evil. Mal wouldn't want to know about the new roads that were once barely passable tracks, the young girls happily attending school classes previously denied them, or the strengthening Afghan army working to help their citizens in need. Amid poverty and extreme hardship Ethan knew the Australian presence had made a difference.

There were people like his parents who thought the forces shouldn't have been involved. It was easy to sit back in the comfort of Australia and make those choices. In some ways coming home had been the hardest part for him. Most of the other blokes had wives or girlfriends or parents looking forward to their return. They had been busting to hand back their gear, get through decompression with its medical checks and paperwork, and get home.

Taking time to debrief was necessary. A lot had been learnt since Vietnam days when soldiers flew out of the pressure cooker of a combat zone and were home to their families in twenty-four hours. They were expected to pick up where they'd left off and forget about a war that had changed them forever. He and Gnasher had talked about the differences several times. Ethan didn't want to end up like the Viet vet, trapped between reality and the scenes from war that still played over in the old man's head despite the distance of time.

Ethan had tried to reassure Savannah but he himself wasn't convinced it was a rabbit Gnasher saw through the sights of his gun. It could just as easily be an imagined Viet Cong soldier.

Ethan thought about the shot they'd heard and his own situation. Funny how something as simple as a can rolling out of a cupboard could evoke such a strong reaction while a gunshot didn't faze him. The brain worked in strange ways.

He looked up at the starry night and thanked whichever lucky star was his that he'd done two tours and come home physically in one piece at least. There had been several close calls. He swallowed the last of his tea.

“Bed calls, Jasper,” he said.

The next morning he woke feeling refreshed. Maybe it was the chamomile tea – who would know – but for the first night in a few, he'd slept well.

He let Jasper out for his morning constitutional and busied himself making breakfast. Jasper was back quickly, a soft paw at the door asking to be let in.

“Bit chilly out there this morning, mate?”

The golden light of the sun, still below the horizon, was softly illuminating the trees but there was no warmth in it yet. Ethan ruffled Jasper's ears, the fur cold under his warm hands.

“Let's get you some food.”

Jasper gave a low growl and stared towards the back door.

Ethan listened. He heard the scrape of a footstep then Savannah appeared on the other side of the glass. That she was there at this hour of the morning was strange enough but it was what she was holding that brought a smile to his lips. He opened the door.

“Good morning,” he said and his grin broadened. “I don't recall asking for home delivery.”

Savannah didn't smile back. She shivered and clutched the large pack of toilet rolls close to her chest.

“I'm very sorry but I need to ask for your help again,” she said.

“Come in.”

She hesitated, glancing at Jasper beside him.

“Drop,” he said.

Savannah stepped just inside the door. He slid it shut behind her.

“Toilet blocked?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No,” she said. “I've had a call from the people on
Tawarri
. They're nearly out of toilet paper and there's no extra in the cupboards.”

This time Ethan raised both eyebrows.

“They're camped at Old Man's Landing, which they said I can get to by vehicle. Fred said it wasn't far but I've no idea how to get there.”

“It's a good spot. Not far.”

“I wondered if you could direct me?”

Wearing loose clothes, her shape was hidden. They made her look thin, and with her short-cropped hair she appeared waif-like, but he knew she was no weakling. She studied him with eyes that were alert, piercing.

“Or better still, could you come with me and show me the way?” she said.

Ethan scratched his forehead. He had planned to get back to Blake's place early. He wanted to check on his brother before he started work on the machinery.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't like imposing on you all the time. I hope this will be the last thing for a while.”

Her tone was brusque. He knew she didn't like asking. Ethan made up his mind.

“It won't take long if we go by boat.”

“Boat?”

“By road it's a long trip, in the tinnie about fifteen minutes.”

“You mean that little tin thing tied up by the houseboats?”

“That's Jaxon's. Mine's a bit bigger.”

Her forehead crinkled and her fingers dug into the paper rolls. “I … I haven't ever been in a small boat like that.”

“Best way to be on the river.”

“Are you sure you couldn't just direct me in the car?”

“No time.” He reached past her and slid the door open. “You'll need a coat. Meet me out the front of my place in ten minutes.”

She opened her mouth then closed it again.

“Okay,” she said.

She gave him one last questioning look then stepped outside.

“See you in ten,” he called after her as she went down the stairs.

Back inside he hurried through his morning jobs, chomping toast and gulping coffee each time he passed the kitchen bench. It was the second time Savannah had interrupted his morning breakfast ritual but this time he didn't mind. He had an excuse to go for a quick trip on the river. Even though there'd be no fishing at least he'd be out on the water again. He pulled on his coat and a thick beanie.

“You'll have to stay here, mate,” he said to Jasper who waited at the door. “By the look of it I don't think our Ms Smith would cope with you in the boat as well.”

Savannah was waiting for him. She wore Jaxon's hi-vis coat over her clothes and her own version of a beanie on her head. The huge packet of toilet rolls was still clutched firmly to her chest.

“Let's go,” he said and led the way down the path to where he kept his tinnie. The earlier golden glow had gone, leaving a pale blue sky littered with wispy grey clouds. There was no mist on the river this morning.

“This is a much better set-up than Jaxon's,” she said as they walked the boards below the retaining wall to the small mooring where Ethan tied his boat. “Why doesn't he do this?”

“Money, I'd be guessing. There was a flood a few years back before both of us bought here. It washed away the bank. The people I bought from had built the jetty but there were no houseboats when Jaxon bought his place.”

Ethan took the toilet paper from her and stashed it under the seat. He held out his hand. “Step into the middle of the boat and sit on the front seat.”

She looked from him to the boat then took his hand. She moved awkwardly and the boat wobbled but her balance was good. She moved easily to the seat on her own. He undid the rope, climbed in and started the motor.

They coasted out to the middle of the river. Savannah faced him from the other end of the boat. She glanced from side to side taking in the scenery. He picked up speed. She gripped the side of the boat.

“Beautiful time of the day on the river,” he called over the noise of the motor.

She gave him a small grin in response and turned her eyes back to the passing scene.

The water was like glass. The tinnie sliced through it. The noise of their progress echoed around them. Waterbirds sat on partly submerged branches, swooped around the banks or floated on the river, busy with their morning tasks. The crisp air burned his cheeks and made his nose run. He inhaled the fresh smell and savoured the taste of the river on his lips. This is where he loved to be.

They saw no other boats as they followed the twists and bends of the river. They passed a few places where houses and shacks lined the banks then came to high cliffs lining one side. Ethan couldn't stop himself sweeping them with a searching look. The only danger from up there might be a tree branch toppling to the river but it was hard to break the habits learned in a war zone.

As they rounded the sharp bend a large sandbar stuck out into the river opposite the cliffs and the houseboat came into view.

“There it is,” he called.

Savannah twisted on her seat to look. Ethan eased back on the throttle and turned the bow towards the bigger boat, then cut the motor so they gently nudged up against the swim deck at the back of the houseboat.

Fred came out of the back door as Ethan reached to hold onto the handrail. The older man was wearing a purple polo shirt over black and purple tartan shorts. A black and purple cap was jammed on top of his head. He looked more like he should be stepping onto the golf course than manning a houseboat.

“Ahoy, there,” Fred called.

A grin stretched his face but there was something about his eyes. Ethan didn't like the man.

Savannah leaned forward and tugged the toilet paper rolls out from under the seat.

“Here you are,” she said and lifted the packet onto the platform.

“I'd invite you in for coffee,” Fred said, “but there are a few sore heads.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “A couple of the ladies can't hold their drink like they used to.”

“Thanks but we'd have to say no anyway.”

Savannah's tone was crisp. Perhaps she didn't like Fred either.

“Ethan kindly offered to run me out here but he has to go to work.”

Fred bent to pick up the toilet paper. “Well, we couldn't do without the necessities. There was no cling wrap or foil either. Luckily one of the ladies threw in her own. Jaxon usually provides it. He's always run a tight ship.” He gave Savannah a patronising look and turned away to go back onto the boat deck.

She squared her shoulders. Ethan could see she was going to stand.

“Don't,” he said. He put up one hand and held tight to the swim deck with the other.

Fred twisted round to look at them. Savannah stayed on her seat glaring up at him.

“We didn't finalise the paperwork before you left,” she said. “Jaxon wouldn't have let that slip either.”

“Don't worry about it.” Fred's stretched smile was back in place. “Jaxon knows we're trustworthy. See you on the weekend.”

Ethan let go of the rail and they drifted away from the houseboat. He started the outboard and from the corner of his eye he saw Fred lift a hand in a lazy wave. Ethan turned their nose for home. In front of him Savannah remained rigidly staring over his shoulder. No doubt Fred and the houseboat were firmly in her sights. Neither of them had returned Fred's wave.

Once they were round the bend, Savannah glanced back at Ethan.

“What paperwork?” he asked.

She drew in a quick breath through her nose.

“He didn't sign the hire agreement.”

“At least you've got his money.”

“Not all of it. I didn't get the bond off him either.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows but didn't say any more. Her face was set in a grim look but the multi-coloured beanie gave her a comical air. Ethan could tell she was beating herself up about it. He decided it was best not to say anything. He shifted his gaze to the river ahead. They travelled the rest of the way in silence.

The moment the boat touched the tiny jetty, Savannah prepared to get out.

“Thanks for taking me,” she said.