Lost Girls (32 page)

One day Cathy
and three others, two girls and a bloke around her age, were
sitting in the bar round the corner from the backpacker hostel. It
was a typical afternoon, the type where one person said to anyone
else in the lobby, “I am going for a drink, any other takers.” She
and another girl, Julie, that she knew slightly, joined the
proposing couple.

After half an
hour a man a few years older, looking in his early thirties, walked
into the bar and greeted Julie. It was not a highly familiar
greeting, just the sort that passing acquaintances make. He bought
a drink and came over, asking Julie if he could join them.

As he sat down
he looked at Cathy with a searching intensity. She wondered why and
moved her eyes away. He seemed to realise and apologised. “Sorry to
stare, it is just you have a look that reminds me of someone else I
used to know. For a second I felt as if I was looking at her. But
it is gone now, sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

She shrugged
and smiled, “I am sure it is just one of those deja vue moments we
all sometimes get. But I am sure it was not me you knew.”

He nodded, “No,
similar but different.”

At this point
the other couple got up and left, excusing themselves with other
things to do. So now it was just three. First name introductions
were made, Julie, Cathy, Mark.

They fell into
the easy conversation of strangers. Cathy liked Julie, she was easy
going. They had chatted briefly three of four times and shared a
couple drinks before today. Julie was Canadian and had worked in
Sydney before coming here. She was heading for Perth next week to
meet her boyfriend. She had met Mark, in passing over a cup of
coffee, at the hostel the day before. After half an hour Julie left
saying she too had things to do.

Now it was just
Cathy and Mark. They each bought another drink. Mark offered to buy
one for Cathy but she declined, saying she was averse to buying
rounds as then one had to keep score.

He nodded, not
any way put out, as if he understood this need for personal
independence. He asked Cathy where she was from and she used her
standard story of the girl from Scotland who had taken the big city
job in London and now wanted to see the wider world. She asked him
about himself in return.

He said, “I am
from everywhere and nowhere. My home is out there somewhere,”
indicating to the north with a broad sweep of his hand.

She was
intrigued, “Out there is a lot of places. Is there nowhere in
particular that you call home?”

He did not
reply immediately but a flash of something passed over his face
that she thought was pain. He covered it with a grin. “Well, you
are right; out there is a lot of places. In the course of an
average year I live and work in many of them, scattered across the
inland of Australia, what some folks call, “The Outback”. Really it
is the next place past where others live.

“Sometimes I
work on cattle stations, sometimes mines, sometimes I fix houses
for my black friends, sometimes I go overseas to work for a
bit.

I think of that
big place out there as my home. But I cannot point to just one
place and say that is where I really belong. Tomorrow I am going up
to Alice Springs, a short drive of 1500 kilometres. I sometimes
stay there for a bit but this time I am heading on through and
going further north to do some work on a cattle station.

Cathy found
herself being unexpectedly frank with this man, not giving any
details of why but saying that she had found she really like
Adelaide and had started to think about settling here. She also
told of her long standing interest to visit Alice Springs and the
outback, and how it was funny that he knew and came from this
place.

Mark said,
“Well, if you want to head off tomorrow and make a one way trip to
the Alice, then come back here by yourself, I am happy to offer you
a ride.

Cathy shook her
head. “Thanks but no thanks. I think I may go there, but not quite
yet. When I do I will take the train. I like travelling that way
and like the independence of making my own arrangements, not asking
for help from others or fitting in around them.”

Mark nodded
again, “I am impressed, one of the very few completely independent
people of the world. Don’t you like the company of others?”

Cathy shrugged.
“I wish I could say I do. But my experience is most people want to
give me something, whether I want it or not. Then in return they
want something back. I don’t want to be that something. So I find
it easier to live life without obligations.”

The talk
drifted into safer topics, another hour of talking about the world
at large and things and places of interest.

Cathy had an
unformed sense that this man understood what she meant about being
one’s own person. It seemed to fit him as well as her. But there
was also something more, as if they both had parts broken inside
from their past and trust was the missing commodity, neither would
trust the world to give them good things, nor expect them of
others.

As more than a
week had passed now since Cathy had sent the letter to her parents
she checked at the hostel reception for any return letter as she
came back into the lobby.

Sure enough
there was an envelope in the familiar hand of her mother, dated
only three days before with an express sticker on the outside. She
went and sat in a chair in the lounge to read it.

The first page
was just the general chit chat of Scottish village life. The second
page began with, “Your uncle called last weekend and asked how you
were going on your travels. I told him you liked Adelaide and would
be there for a bit. Amazingly he is also on a trip to Australia
himself, flying out the day after this letter, two days in Sydney
before flying on to Adelaide. He asked for your address so he could
call to see you and say hello. I gave it to him. I will post this
by express mail so hopefully you will have got it before he arrives
and be expecting him.”

Cathy did her
sums. The letter postmark date was three days ago. Her uncle could
even arrive in Adelaide this afternoon, probably tomorrow or the
day after that was most likely. But it could be today.

Of all the
people in the world that she never wanted to meet again he was
number one. She hated the way this nightmare followed her here. It
would be hard to avoid him if he came to this place. But she could
not bear to see him. So she must go somewhere else. She could not
tell this to her parents or he would know and may follow again. She
must vanish.

She was sitting
lost in her own world, oblivious to the other. She became aware of
a person sitting in the next seat.

She looked up.
It was Mark.

He said, “Sorry
to intrude, I saw you sitting here reading a letter with a shocked
look on your face, like someone had died. Is there anything I can
do to help?”

She looked at
him, surprised by her own directness, saying. “You said you were
leaving tomorrow, going to Alice Springs, you offered me a
lift.

“Could you
leave tonight, that is right now? If you do I will come with you,
if that is OK?”

Mark shrugged,
“Sure; today, tomorrow, it is all the same to me. My business in
Adelaide is done; my car is in a car park around the corner. I can
pack my things and be ready to go in five minutes if that suits
you.”

Cathy went
upstairs and was packed in a minute. On returning to the lobby she
saw there was no one at reception. She scribbled a quick note
telling of her early departure. “Something has come up and I need
to leave unexpectedly. Don’t worry about the extra days I have
paid, I don’t need the money back.”

As she finished
writing Mark came alongside. She folded the note, left it on the
counter and they walked out to his car. There were two other people
she recognised waiting in the lobby bar so she waved to them and
called out goodbye.

That night they
stayed in side by side rooms in a little motel in a town called
Burra, an old copper mining town.

In the late
evening they walked around parts of the historic town, just
chatting and enjoying the dusk stillness. They did not intrude any
further on the other, both taking room service and going to bed
early. Mark said he would call her to wake up at six am, as he
wanted to get away early.

Cathy was in a
deep sleep when the knock came to her door.

“Six o’clock,
time to go.”

She dressed
quickly and brought her bag outside. It was still dark, just a
faint glow in the east, and the air was cold. She shivered, glad of
her thick jumper though her legs were cold in shorts

Mark had the
car engine idling, and already there was faint heat in the cabin.
She climbed in and curled her legs under her on the seat.

Mark looked at
her curiously, “Bit cold huh. Don’t worry, in another minute it
will be roasting and you will be able to stretch out like a cat in
the sun. I always try to get going first thing; it is a habit of
station life. In a couple hours we can pull up for some breakfast
and really enjoy it.

Seeing this is
your first time to the bush I thought I should show you a few
sights along the way. We are heading up through the Flinders Ranges
and there are spectacular mountains and view of gorges which I
thought you might like to see. Then you will know where to come and
visit next time you are up this way from Adelaide.

Cathy smiled at
him. There was something warming in his manner. It came through as
an obvious love for these places and a real pleasure in showing
others. She said. “Well aren’t I the lucky one, getting my own tour
guide as well as my own Outback Tour. I can’t imagine why I refused
your kind offer the first time you made it.

He gave her a
wicked smile back. “It is all my pleasure, Maam. I always aim to
please.”

Cathy found
herself laughing, really laughing. It felt so good, just to laugh
and be happy, like a carefree person, again. She could not remember
the last time in her life when she had laughed with totally
unexpected joy. She settled down to enjoy the journey, determined
to make it a trip to remember and glad of this unexpected turn in
her life.

As they drove
along the sky to the north east slowly brightened going through the
full range of dawn colours. It had rained lightly during the night,
just odd puddles on the road. But the remnants of cloud sat off to
the east. The light captured them high up at the edge of the world.
It lit them with the softest mauve light. Then, as the light
brightened, the hue changed to a rich pastel pink, flecked with
orange and red edges.

Cathy watched
spellbound. It took her back to her earliest childhood, faded
memories of sunrises and sunsets of the Scottish highlands, though
here the colours and light were different. A tear trickled down her
cheek at the memory of a lost childhood and an innocence gone; it
was so long ago. She brushed it aside with the back of her hand,
determined to leave the past behind.

Now the sunrise
had moved to a new level of surreal colour; a riot mauves, pinks,
reds, oranges and finally gold as the first light shafts streaked
up from the still hidden sun disk. Now this extended kaleidoscope
covered half the sky, layer on layer of cloud infused colour.

As suddenly as
it came it went. In another minute it had faded, now just the
orange and gold remained as the light streamers grew ever brighter.
Then it was just gold as the sun disk touched the horizon.

Cathy turned to
Mark and said. “I have seen many beautiful sunrises and sunsets as
a child in Scotland. But this surpasses all that have come before.
Did you turn it on just for me?”

Mark said, “I
wish; even for me, a hardened bushie who gets to see a new dawn
most every day, that was one to remember. I think you deserve
credit, if you had not prompted an early departure last night I
expect I would still be eating breakfast in Adelaide. You must be
my good luck charm if you keep bringing such special sights.

They
breakfasted at Peterborough, a pastoral town about an hour north of
Burra. As the shops were now open Mark stocked up on provisions for
the trip. He suggested that Cathy buy a pair of hard wearing jeans,
RM Willams he recommended, some shirts, a jacket and sturdy walking
boots. He told her he was planning to take her walking the hills
over the next two days.

That night they
stopped at Wilpaena Pound Resort, arriving at lunch time. In the
afternoon they walked around a magical circle of mountains, their
colour changing endlessly as the afternoon light moved around, the
rays lighting one distant peak after another.

It was
approaching dusk before they were back. They had walked for many
hours with occasional rest stops to admire the view. They had
adjoining motel rooms again and tonight they shared a meal and
glass of wine in the adjoining restaurant, dancing firelight
shadows from a roaring log fire their companion.

Cathy started
yawning, unaccustomed to the early morning and the walking; it must
have been ten miles that they walked this afternoon. Her legs were
aching from the unexpected exercise and her body glowed with a
euphoric feeling from exertion and fresh air.

She said to
Mark, “What is tomorrow’s plan?”

He replied.
“Have you ever been hunting? Tomorrow I want to hunt goats in the
ranges fifty miles north of here. I can usually bag three or four
in the course of a day and fill up the ice box on the back of my
truck. Goat meat is a welcome change of diet for people up north of
the dog fence. Up there are lots of dingoes but no goats. “I have a
Greek friend up there who likes nothing better than a meal made
from a big old billy goat.