The rain fell down as soon as we went inside. There we were. The two of us, alone. The light was fading into evening and the temperature had dropped rapidly enough to make it uncomfortable.
After our day in the blazing sun, it seemed strange, to now, be almost forcibly contained in the little beach shack that had been my home all through the summer.
âWould you like me to light the fire?â I asked hesitantly, afraid to break the moment with speech. The days were hot, but at this time of year, the nights could be bitterly cold.
âYeah. I suppose youâd better. Itâs getting cold and it doesnât look like weâll be going anywhere else in a hurry! Would you like me to get something to eat, while you do that?â she said, moving toward the tiny area of âthe hutâ that served as a kitchen.
âThereâs not much there Iâm afraid. Writers living by themselves donât tend to keep a lot of food in the larder. We either donât eat or tend to spend a lot of time eating snack and takeaways whenever we are in town.â Not strictly true. I did spend a lot of time fishing and foraging for seafood, at my slice of Paradise
She opened the pantry door. Glancing briefly at the selection of packaged and tinned âdinner for oneâsâ, she smiled and laughed â Youâre right, there isnât a lot here, but I bet I can cook a gourmet meal fit for a king, with what is here. God knows, you look like you could use one!â And then she winked.
The moment was gone, for now at least. What did she mean, âGod knows, I could use oneâ? Did I look that skinny & undernourished after my âself exiledâ summer? I had had no reason to keep up appearances out here. I had come seeking solitude. I had deliberately sought the most inaccessible property in the Moray Cove area. 120 kilometres from the nearest town, down unnamed tracks through the lush tropical jungle typical of this part of northern Queensland.
You had to try hard to get here, and that was what I had wanted. I didnât want people âjust dropping byâ. After the pain of my divorce, and Jenny getting custody of Alison and David, all I had wanted to do, was immerse myself wholly and solely in my writing. No interruptions. No friends. No contact with anyone unless I chose to.
I wasnât the only âhermitâ living in this area though! The crusty old estate agent had said, âthere weâre heaps of people living like meâ. He didnât care what they did, as long as they paid the rent, didnât start fires and kept the place tidy. Since I had paid the rent 6 months in advance, I hadnât seen him since that day. Old goat!
About once a fortnight, I made the trek into Salisbury to re-supply. This was the only contact I had with the outside world. The petrol station, the supermarket and the Post office to pay some bills, collect my mail and phone the kids. That was it. I came and I went. I chose my contacts. That was until today.
Where had this woman really come from? Why was she here? Where was she going to?
I grabbed the basket for the firewood. âThanks. I wonât be long,â I said.
âNo problem. Iâll be here,â she said, smiling. She was still staring at me as I headed for the door.
What was it, with this woman? She was always goddamn smiling and laughing. Beautiful as she was, she was getting to me.
Sheâd appeared this morning. I was walking down to the beach for a swim, when I saw her. She was coming out of the water, after a swim. She was nude! And she was the most gorgeous woman I had seen, ever! Let alone, on a beach in the middle of nowhere. Tall, long blonde flowing hair, perfect breasts perfect legs and thighs, in fact, perfect everything.
How did she get here? I had seen no vehicle! The single lane track to my shack was hard going and definitely four wheel drive only, forged through the thick jungle, by the single blade of a dozer many years ago. There was no vehicle access along the beach. My nearest neighbours (whom I hadnât met), were some 50 kilometres up and down the beach respectively. The problem with that, was that thick mangrove swamps and crocodiles put paid to any possible contact from either direction.
Which left âŠ. the ocean. I quickly scoured the beach, and saw no sign of any boat, except mine.
Seeing me, she picked up her towel and dried herself as she walked toward me. She said, â Hi, Iâm Karen! I hope you donât mind if I swim on your beach?â and smiled. Just smiled, the first of many that day.
âNo, of course not.â I stammered, in shocked surprise âItâs a free country and no one owns the beaches. But, how the hell did you get here? Itâs a long way to come for a swim and itâs definitely not like you took a wrong turn on the way to Bondi!â I was carrying my gear for the day. My beach chair, umbrella, towel and laptop computer.
She gestured to the ocean and replied, âMy fiancee, well, now ex fiancee, dropped me off this here, early this morning and told me to find my own way back to civilisation.â I noticed the slight lilt of an accent when she spoke, but I couldnât place where from. It sounded, well, it sounded perfect. Crisp, clear, concise. Not Australian nor pommy, not American or Canadian. Strange!
âWeâd been having an argument all night, I told him I had had enough, and I wanted to go home. The fucking bastard said he wouldnât take me back, but he would drop me off on shore! I told the prick I wouldnât spend another minute with him. So, at first light, we lowered the rubber ducky and weaved our way through the reef, until we saw the roof of your hut and this beach â.
She seemed close to tears, but was determined not to break down. It sounded believable.
âHe didnât even stay long enough to find out if there was anyone here, the bastard.â
Putting my gear down on the sand, I noted, â Well, he couldnât have found a more remote spot for you to start back to civilisation from. We are at least 50 kilometres from anything or anyone, except me, so I have to agree with you, he is a fucking bastard.â
I was annoyed at the situation between Karen and her boyfriend. But I was more annoyed at the fact that I, was now expected to act the white Knight and rescue this damsel in distress from peril. Why me?
âI suppose
Iâll
have to take you back to Salisbury, so you can âget back to civilisationâ, wonât I!â I said, with a touch of resigned sarcasm. I started to pick up my gear. âCâmon letâs go. I donât suppose your
boyfriend
thought to contact anyone to let them know you weâre coming ashore, did he?â
Surprisingly, she laughed. What was so funny? This was a serious situation. Here she was a young girl, stranded, by herself, in the wilds of far north Queensland. If I hadnât have been here, this girl could die. She looked too much of a city girl to survive on her own, much less trek to civilisation. Nothing was funny!
â No. He didnât contact anyone, but Iâm a big girl and I can look after myself thank you very muchâ, her eyes flared as she spoke with conviction. The accent, if thatâs what it was, was definitely more pronounced after this outburst, but where was it from? âI could stay here, cook and clean for you and if and when you decide to go into this Salisbury, Iâd go with you then,â her tone changed abruptly, seductively, âunless of course, you would like me to stay and keep you companyâ.
âYou donât know anything about me. I could be a serial rapist or murderer hiding out from the cops. Christ, you donât even know my name yet. How could you be so stupid?" I was getting angry.
She glared at me, defiantly. âTrue. I donât know your name, because you havenât told me, yet.â Well that much was true. â And two other things, firstly, I am more than capable of handling myself against anyone or thing. Donât ask how or why, just believe meâ about that, she sounded quite certain. âSecondly, I do know, that youâre decent enough to offer to drive me into town, probably to the police station and you did care that someone should know that I have come ashore, even if that bastard of a fiancee of mine didnât. A serial rapist or murderer on the run from the cops wouldnât give a toss about those things, and he most certainly would not be discussing it on the beach, while we are both nude, Mr. â she paused, smiled and laughed âwhat is your name?â Despite the speed with which she spoke, she was calm throughout.
Now it was my turn to smile, it wasnât from embarrassment. I simply hadnât even considered the fact that I was nude as well. Being out here, I never gave a thought to putting clothes on, except when the sandflies were biting. Clothes were superfluous on my beach.
âSure enough youâre right. Letâs start again, properly this time. My name is Brian Manning, and if you want to stay you are most welcome, for as long as you like.â I gestured toward âthe hutâ in welcome âMi casa su casa!â
âThank you.â Again, that smile. âMy name is Karen McCaullay from Collaroy, Sydney, although more recently off the cruising yacht âLâil Sisterâ. My fiancee and I weâre on the first leg of our trip to America. Huh.â She laughed. âWe didnât make it very far eh. Not even to the northern tip of the Great Barrierâ
âWell, Karen McCaullay, late of the cruising yacht âLâil Sisterâ are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?â I didnât know what weâd have, but I had to make the offer.
This girl with the strange accent and very little, if any attire was a mystery, and I was now determined to solve it, even if it took a long time. Maybe I could have some fun in the process. A gorgeous young girl being around couldnât be all that bad after all.
She turned back toward the shoreline and carefully started to lay her towel flat on the sand, âNo thanks. Iâm not hungry. Itâs such a beautiful day, Iâm happy just to lay here and soak up some rays and swim when the mood takes me,â she started to lay down on the towel, âif itâs no bother to you that is?â