Riverboat Point (18 page)

Savannah was about to say she'd love to when she remembered Belinda was coming over.

“I can't,” she said.

“Don't like curry?” One of his eyebrows raised in a quirky look.

“I love curry,” she said, “but I've already asked Belinda over.”

“Bring her too,” he said. “There will be plenty.”

Savannah thought a moment then said yes. She didn't think Belinda would mind going to Ethan's. She was happy to have company.

“Can I bring something?”

“No,” he said. “Just yourselves.” He turned to walk away and then stopped and looked back at her. “Maybe some sparkling. I don't keep any of that.”

She opened her mouth but he was already striding away. One thing she wouldn't be taking was sparkling. From now on she was strictly a beer girl. Belinda could have any she brought to herself.

At ten-thirty the next morning Savannah was pacing the floor.
Tawarri
should have been back by ten. She was sure Fred was playing on her lack of knowledge of the business. She wasn't planning on letting him get away with it.

She stopped in front of the sliding door, let herself out and walked down to the river's edge. She peered left and right. A small boat was making its way along the river but there was no sign of the houseboat. She turned and followed the drive to the gate. The only sounds were birdcalls and the odd rustle of leaves.

She peered at the thick bush on Belinda's side of the fence. It didn't look as if anyone would live in that property, just as it didn't across the road on Gnasher's block. She hadn't seen Ethan on her run this morning or heard a bark from Jasper. She stood perfectly still and listened. Not a human sound to be heard. The rest of the world could be dead for all she knew. She was totally alone. At least she would have Belinda's company later and Ethan's at dinner tonight. She found herself looking forward to it.

She glanced again at the fence that divided the properties. It didn't look strong enough to stand up in the wind let alone keep that dog of Ash's in. What was to stop it coming over here and attacking her? Savannah peered at the bush expecting to see a large mouth full of teeth at any moment. A few metres in she noticed another fence. It was newer and higher, like the one that followed the roadside boundary of the Palmers' property. That was why the dog couldn't come her way. For some reason they'd built their fence just inside their property. Maybe Jaxon or the previous owners hadn't wanted the cost of a new fence but even so, if the Palmers were going to the trouble of putting up a new fence surely they'd want it to follow their boundary.

A distant droning sound made her look up. She spotted a small plane a long way off. So there were other humans out there somewhere. She pursed her lips. None of them was Fred and his friends.

Savannah went back to the shed and let herself in. She gathered the linen and toiletries that would be needed for
Tawarri
. There was a box on a homemade trolley. She assumed Jaxon used it to transport the gear to the boats. She stacked as much as she could inside it and towed it back to the verandah. Still no sign of a boat. She decided to brew herself a tea.

Tawarri
pulled back into its space at eleven-thirty. Savannah was ropable. She ignored Fred's cheery wave as he tied one of the mooring ropes to the tree.

“You're very late,” she said as he came up the path to meet her.

There were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was sallow but he still had the same patronising look on his face.

“Jaxon never worries too much about the time we return,” he said.

Savannah drew a deep breath in through her nose.

“Your booking conditions clearly indicate the return time is to be negotiated. This boat has to go out again this afternoon.” It didn't but Savannah wasn't going to let the smarmy Fred get off so easily. “I've little time to get it ready.”

“It wasn't in the best condition when we got it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You already know about the missing toilet paper and cling wrap. There were other things. Just minor but not up to Jaxon's usual standard.” Fred grinned broadly and patted her shoulder. “We understand you're just learning though. We managed.”

Savannah resisted the urge to slap his hand away. From the corner of her eye she could see movement from the boat as the others began to unload.

“We've saved you some cleaning time,” he continued before she could get a word in. “The ladies have gone over the boat from top to bottom. Better than when we took it out.”

“You didn't pay the hire fee before you left and I'd still like the bond money,” Savannah cut in before he could gush any more.

“Little point to the bond now,” Fred said. He threw out his arms. “We're back safe and sound.”

“Fuel costs.”

“That won't be much. We didn't end up going far.” He winked at her. “Turned into a real party boat. We were having too much fun to sight-see.”

Savannah forced herself not to cringe away from him.

“Money please,” she said.

“Didn't we pay that before we left?” Fred's wife had come up the path carrying an armload of boxes. “I collected everyone's share and put it in your wallet, Fred. We certainly haven't been anywhere to spend it.”

“I didn't realise, pet.” He gave Jan a pat on her bottom. “I'll take care of it.”

She smiled at Savannah and went on up the path.

“There's the hire fee and an extra two hundred.” Fred held out a wad of fifty dollar notes. “Should more than cover the fuel.”

Savannah felt exposed but she counted it carefully where she stood.

“I'll get you a receipt.”

“No need,” he said with a smug grin.

People were trudging around them, loaded with bags, boxes and containers. Their chat lacked the exuberance it had at their departure. Savannah didn't think the women looked quite so glamorous and perky as they had before they left. One of the women in particular looked terrible. The man beside her had his arm around her.

“Just ridiculous to go so far,” she complained as they passed Savannah.

“This was much better than our last trip, don't you think?” Fred said to the pair.

The man gave him a nod but the woman glared.

Fred was oblivious.

“Let's get everything stacked up here.” He waved to a point at the top of the path. “Pete and I will bring the cars down.”

The two men set off up the path. Savannah noticed the woman continued to glare after them. Not a happy camper. None of the rest of them was smiling except for Jan.

With the money gripped tightly in her hand, Savannah made her way back to the shack. She'd write the receipt regardless of Fred's casual response. She had no idea of fuel costs but she hoped the bit of extra money would cover it. She was annoyed at her mismanagement of this first hiring and Fred's smug attitude only made her feel it more.

Inside she stashed the money in an envelope. She still had to work out what to do with cash and cheques. She tidied up all the papers relating to Fred's hire and wrote a receipt. The sound of cars moving outside drew her to the door. Fred's party were loaded up and both cars were moving away by the time she reached the end of the verandah.

She made a half-hearted attempt to wave the paper she was clutching. A dust trail billowed behind the vehicles then they were through the gate and gone. Savannah listened until the sounds of their engines faded away. Fred hadn't waited for the receipt. Good riddance to him. She turned and made her way to the boat.

The deck was tidy and at first glance, the living area was too. The sink and the stovetop sparkled in the sunshine slanting through the windows and the benchtops were clear. She made her way down the passageway opening bedroom doors and glancing in bathrooms. The bottom of her runners squelched. They stuck to the linoleum floor with each step she took. The floor was still wet. Inside the bedrooms, the carpets looked okay but the bedding spilled onto the floor. The beds had to be stripped anyway but she thought they could have been left pulled up. The bathroom tiles were wet and in one bathroom, empty soap packets and assorted toiletry containers littered the basin. Already Fred's boast about the tidiness of their clean-up had been proven to be a lie. The gall of the man to insinuate the boat had gone out in this state.

The door of the last bathroom was jammed and she had to push hard to open it. She looked down at the soggy towel that was wedged below it then the smell hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and nose but it was too late to keep out the mingled stench of vomit and faeces. The floor was awash with yellow chunky liquid and the toilet splattered with brown from the seat to the base. There was a gaping hole in the wall where the toilet roll holder should have been.

Savannah stepped back quickly and pulled the door shut on the putrid mess. Her cup of tea gurgled in her stomach. She gagged and made a dash for the back door. On the swim deck she placed her hands on the rails and sucked in deep breaths of fresh air.

Damn Fred and his superior attitude. He was nothing but a liar and a cheat. She thumped the railing and winced as it jarred her arm. A couple of birds paddling on the river, took off in fright as she yelled a string of abuse to the departed Fred and his crew.

Ethan stopped. He peered to the left and the right of the track. It was too quiet.

“Cooee,” he called. “Incoming.”

He stood still and listened again. There was a small thud to his left which meant Gnasher was on his right but he took the bait and turned. There was a rustle of leaves behind him and strong arms grabbed him.

“You're getting soft, Digger,” a voice hissed in his ear.

The smell of unwashed clothes and body odour assaulted his nostrils. Ethan shrugged away from the arms that held him.

“Bloody hell, Gnasher,” he said as he stepped back. “When did you wash last?”

“I was just heading to the river. Heard you coming a mile off.” Gnasher grinned, revealing the gaps where he'd lost teeth. “Thought I'd stay and put you through your paces.”

“You stink, mate.” Ethan smiled back at the old bloke.

“I've been a bit crook.”

Ethan studied Gnasher. That usually meant he'd been on a bender. He might look like he was homeless but he was particular with his personal hygiene. There was a three-day growth on his normally clean-shaven face. Apart from the stink he looked well enough.

“Rotten guts,” Gnasher said. “I've come good now. Must have been something I ate.”

“Why are you going to the river to wash?”

“Pump's not working.”

“How about I take a look at it?”

“Sure.”

Gnasher retrieved a backpack he'd stashed when he'd been stalking Ethan and made off along the track. Ethan followed, thankful there was a gentle southwesterly to keep the smell away from him.

They stepped into the clearing where Gnasher had his living quarters. It was basic, a caravan inside a large shed that was open along the front. The camp was a contrast of basic living and modern technology. There were rabbit skins hanging from a wire near the old Holden that Gnasher sometimes drove into town to do odd jobs for people. Once or twice a year he drove it to Adelaide to see his daughter Cheryl and grandchildren.

The publican from Riverboat Point delivered beer every fortnight and once a month Charlie from the supermarket delivered his food supplies and mail. Gnasher was happy with his life. As happy as he could be. Ethan knew he still suffered from the terrors. They'd compared war stories on a couple of occasions. Enough so they understood each other. Different generations, different wars, but the same nightmares.

“You've got a TV,” Ethan said.

He strolled across to inspect the large flat screen set up by the couch in the corner behind the car.

“I want to watch the footy grand final.”

“You could have come to my place.”

“I decided it was time. Cheryl's given me a pile of those old
Carry On
movies. They're always good for a laugh. I'll put the kettle on.”

Gnasher dropped his pack on a chair at the small table and made his way to the back of the shed where he had a kitchen set up: benches, shelves, microwave, oven and even the kitchen sink. The floor of the shed was concrete but he had all the mod cons he wanted. Anything he needed he built. He'd been a carpenter by trade and a handyman until the drinking had stopped him from holding down a job.

Ethan wandered over to the couch. The TV had a DVD recorder attached. It was an impressive set-up.

“You joining the twenty-first century?” To Ethan's knowledge Gnasher had never had a television. The few times he came over to watch some footy, he'd go outside if the news was on or the ads were too crazy. The idiot box, as he called it, made him jumpy.

“You might need to make this end of the place more weatherproof,” Ethan said.

The shed had large tarpaulins that could be rolled down to enclose the space. Gnasher usually only had them down during the coldest months, preferring his home to be open to the bush. He used the van for sleeping and warmth when it was too cold to be outside.

“We'll see,” Gnasher said over his shoulder.

Ethan made his way around the side of the shed, past the bins and drums where Gnasher put his rubbish. There were always more empty beer bottles and cans than anything else but he kept it all tidy. At the back of the shed was the lean-to Gnasher had built. It housed a laundry, toilet, shower and bathtub. Beside that was the rainwater tank. The tank had a tap to give access to drinking water if Gnasher needed it but the pump fed water to everything else.

Ethan lifted the box that covered the pump. The motor was old and the last time he'd tinkered with it he'd warned Gnasher he'd need a new one before long. That had been a few months ago, so the pump had done well but Ethan could see it had had it now.