Flight of the Jabiru (23 page)

The sun was dipping in the western sky, setting it aglow with vibrant reds and rich golds, the colors reflected in the billabong. It was a breathtaking sight, which Lara admired as she walked. The birds and ducks had quietened as they prepared to settle for the night, but no one else was around, which puzzled Lara.

As she stepped onto the jetty, she could see a familiar form waiting for her at the end, where there was a table and chairs. She smiled at Jerry from the distance separating them, touched by his thoughtfulness in organizing a dinner date in Shady Camp. As she walked towards him, she was conscious of her heels clacking on the wooden boards of the jetty, breaking the peaceful silence. As she passed moored boats, Jerry returned her smile self-consciously. When she reached him, he pulled out a chair for her. She noticed there were two at the table and one to the side.

“Good evening,” Lara said, noticing he looked very handsome in a white shirt and lightweight beige slacks. “This is a lovely surprise and quite unexpected.” She admired the table. A candle glowed as the centerpiece. There was a bottle of wine and glasses, two white plates, and cutlery, all on a white tablecloth. It looked quite elegant, given the setting. The food smelt delicious. “How did you do this?” she asked, impressed, as she sat down.

“Well, if you wouldn't come with me to the city to dine, I had to think of something,” Jerry said rather seriously. He appeared tense, which put Lara on edge, too.

“Ouch!” Lara slapped her lower leg. “The mosquitoes don't waste any time.” She then slapped her upper arm as well.

Jerry panicked. He could see the evening he'd planned coming to a swift end. He reached into his medical bag, which was beside his seat as he never went anywhere without it, producing a jar of cream.

“It doesn't smell very pleasant, but it will keep the mozzies at bay,” he said, passing her the jar.

“I've been spraying myself with Fly Tox in desperation,” Lara admitted with a self-conscious smile. “It can't smell worse than that. Apparently the men at the pub are joking that I smell so bad that the crocs wouldn't eat me if I was offered to them on a plate.”

“Don't spray yourself with that stuff. You'll absorb the toxins in the fly spray through your skin,” Jerry said seriously. He then chided himself for playing ‘doctor'. “Sorry, I can't help myself, even when I'm off duty.”

“That's all right,” Lara said. “It's best to know I'm poisoning myself, I suppose.” She smeared her legs and arms with the cream. “What is this stuff made from?” Sure enough, it didn't smell very nice.

“The main ingredient is extracted from a plant that the Aborigines discovered to keep mosquitoes from biting them. I had a scientist make up a cream using the plant juice because a lot of my patients live near the wet lands, where the mosquitoes are ferocious and spread malaria and other transmitted diseases.”

“I guess it doesn't matter what it smells like as long as it works,” Lara said, offering him the jar.

“Keep it,” Jerry said. “The mosquitoes seem to love new blood and tender skin. I hope you are hungry.”

“I'm starving and something smells pretty amazing.”

Jerry lifted the lid from the casserole dish and served a portion of chicken onto Lara's plate.

“Surely you didn't cook this?” Lara was assailed with a delicious aroma. “Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to rudely imply you can't cook.”

“I'm not completely useless in that department, but I wouldn't subject you to one of my offerings, especially if I'd brought it all the way from the city.”

“So who cooked this delicious meal?”

“Betty!” He poured her a glass of wine. “Monty claims this is one of his finest wines, but I doubt you will be very impressed.”

Lara tasted it. “It's passable,” she said with a smile. “But I'm easily pleased these days,” she joked.

“Betty was going to make salad but I didn't want her to go to much trouble. She has enough to do.”

Lara was disappointed to think that this dinner was Betty's idea. That made it less romantic.

“Dining here with you on the jetty was my idea,” Jerry commented, as if he'd read her mind. “But I didn't ask Betty to cook for us especially. She offered me the chicken for lunch, because she'd cooked up a big batch this morning and had given some to Rizza. That gave me this idea, but of course I needed a little help to pull it off.” He'd borrowed the table and chairs from the pub and the table cloth, plates, and cutlery belonged to Betty, who'd excitedly insisted he did it right.

“Oh,” Lara said, a little happier. She tasted the chicken and couldn't help making appreciative noises.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jerry acknowledged, starting to relax enough to see a successful evening ahead.

“I haven't tasted anything so good since I got here,” Lara said. “It's amazing how quickly you get fed up with fish.”

“That's true.”

“Honestly, it feels like ages since I dined out,” Lara commented as she looked around. “Eating here on the jetty gives new meaning to ‘eating out'.”

“There's only the pub in this town,” Jerry said, wondering if she was disappointed with the location. “And we'd be the subject of many prying eyes there.”

“This is much better,” Lara said enthusiastically. “It's certainly unique!” She couldn't wait to tell her father about it in a letter.

The sun had completely gone and already billions of stars twinkled in a clear, black sky that stretched from one horizon to another. As the mozzies were leaving her alone, Lara felt free to enjoy the wonderful setting. There was even a faint, cooling breeze, which was pleasant. “Do you think we're being watched by hungry crocodiles?” she half joked. While the setting was serene, she couldn't forget what lurked below the water's tranquil surface.

“Without a doubt,” Jerry replied, sipping his wine.

Lara's smile faded, but she tried to put frightening thoughts to the back of her mind. Jerry had gone to a lot of trouble, so she wanted to enjoy the evening.

“We're perfectly safe on the jetty,” Jerry added. He preferred not to talk about crocs as inevitably the subject of Rick Marshall would come up.

Lara glanced around again. The jetty was a reasonable size, big enough to moor several boats alongside. They were sitting at the end, where there was an empty space. It was the spot where Rick had been mooring his boat. In the distance they could hear the hum of a boat's engine and it appeared to be coming closer. Jerry hoped it wasn't Rick. He'd chosen to dine on the jetty because he thought it would be romantic, but only because Monty had told him that Rick was away, relocating a crocodile he'd trapped.

Lara heard footsteps on the far end of the jetty. “Someone is coming,” she said, anticipating it was one of the fishermen in town.

“Our entertainment, I hope,” Jerry said.

“Entertainment!” Lara was delighted, and intrigued.

“I hope you like violin music,” Jerry said. He prayed the violinist was as good as he claimed, as he'd never heard him play.

Lara peered into the darkness in amazement and soon noticed the violinist was walking with a lopsided gait.

“Good evening, folks,” Monty said when he got close. As instructed, he was wearing a shirt instead of a singlet, and he'd washed, but already the shirt was sticking to his back. Clearly he felt uncomfortable as he was tugging at the collar and he'd rolled up the sleeves.

“Good evening, Monty,” Lara said. “I didn't know you had hidden talent.”

“Don't be in any hurry to call it talent. You haven't heard me yet,” he said opening the case that contained a very old violin that had been in his family for generations. “I might be a bit rusty, but I'll do my best.”

They were all vaguely aware that the sound of a boat engine was closer and louder.

Monty sat down on the spare chair and pushed his beard aside so he could put the violin under his chin. He then began to play. He was indeed a bit rusty, but he wasn't too bad. The strains of the violin echoed across the billabong, but unfortunately the boat's engine was interfering, so the sound wasn't pure. Jerry was annoyed as he now strongly suspected that Rick was returning and he would spoil the evening he'd planned.

Monty, however, soldiered on, doing his best to create romantic music. And it might've been very enjoyable, despite him being a bit off key, had it not been for the noisy engine of the boat. In the end, he stopped playing, as Rick's boat loomed in the darkness and before long it pulled alongside the jetty. The engine was extinguished and Rick jumped onto the jetty to tie up.

“What've we got here?” he asked inquisitively. He took in the candlelight, the wine, and Monty with a violin in his hands, and realization dawned. The doctor was wooing Lara.

“It appears my timing is awful, yet again,” Rick said to Lara. Jerry was doing his best not to look irritated, but failing miserably. “I'm sorry. I've interrupted your special evening.”

Jerry thought he detected a hint of insincerity in the comment.

“We're just having dinner,” Lara said with a faint flush. She was pleased to see that Rick had returned safely, even if Jerry wished he'd stayed away longer.

“I can move the boat and anchor over the other side of the billabong until you've finished your meal,” Rick offered.

“There's no need, is there, Jerry?” Lara said.

“No,” Jerry agreed without enthusiasm.

“How did you go with the croc?” Lara asked.

“Very well. He was quite a big one, but he's now got a new home on the Mary River, miles from here.”

“That's good,” Lara said. “One less to worry about.” She was still very concerned that the monster crocodile was somewhere nearby, possibly right under the jetty. Just the thought sent a chill through her.

“I'll leave you to your evening,” Rick said as he climbed aboard his boat again.

“I'll be off, too,” Monty said standing. “Colin's minding the bar, but he's probably drinking all the profits.”

“Thank you, Monty,” Jerry said.

“Yes, thank you,” Lara echoed. “The music was beautiful.”

“I don't know about that,” Monty said. “I should practice a bit more.” He hobbled away.

Lara sipped her wine and smiled at Jerry, but she could see that he was tense. “This chicken really is delicious,” she commented again.

“It smells great,” Rick called out from the boat. He'd lit a lamp aboard so Lara could see his remark was accompanied by a cheeky smirk.

It occurred to Lara that Rick was probably starving. When she noticed he was throwing a fishing line into the billabong she felt terrible. “Are you trying to catch something for your dinner?” she called to him.

“Yes, I hope they're biting,” Rick called back. He secured the line and then went about his chores.

Lara glanced at Jerry, but he was doing his best to concentrate on his meal. There was plenty of chicken in the casserole dish, but it wasn't her place to offer it to Rick, although she wanted to.

Rick began unloading some wood onto the jetty. “Please don't take any notice of me,” he suggested. “I have to take this wood off the boat or I won't be able to get into my galley to cook my fish dinner, if I'm lucky enough to catch something.”

Lara felt guilty for eating in front of him again. “What's the wood for?” she asked.

“I'm building another trap.”

Lara realized it was for the monster croc, but that was a secret between her and Rick, for now. “Where did you get the wood?”

“After relocating the croc, I went around the coast towards the city and bought it at a mill. That's why I'm late getting back.”

Some of the pieces were long and looked heavy. Lara noticed he was struggling to off load it by himself. When he winced with shoulder pain after lifting a particularly long piece, Jerry jumped up to help him.

“Thanks,” Rick said appreciatively. “I can manage the shorter pieces.”

Lara noticed he rubbed his sore shoulder when they'd put the wood down on the jetty. “Are you sure you're all right?” she asked, concerned.

Jerry thought she sounded overly anxious about a shoulder twinge.

“I'm fine,” Rick insisted, his cheeky smile returning.

Lara knew he was playing down the pain he was in, and explained to Jerry that Rick had a war injury. Jerry politely offered to take a look at it.

“There's nothing to see but a scar,” Rick insisted. “The army doctors said nothing else could be done. I just have to get on with life and that's what I'm doing.”

“Your attitude is commendable,” Lara commented.

“Not really. Many returned soldiers are worse off than me,” Rick insisted. “At least I've still got all my limbs.”

As Rick continued to unload wood, Lara felt rude to be eating in front of him, especially as there was more than enough food to share. It was obvious Jerry hadn't thought to offer him some chicken. “Why don't you sit down and help us finish this chicken?” she insisted. She looked at Jerry for confirmation.

“Mr. Marshall would probably prefer a freshly caught fish,” Jerry said stiffly.

“There's nothing like a barra for dinner,” Rick happily agreed.

“You see,” Jerry said to Lara.

“Although ... it has been weeks since I've had chicken,” Rick added.

“Then please join us,” Lara insisted. “We have a spare chair, but you'll need to bring your own plate and cutlery.”

“If you're sure I'm not imposing,” Rick said, putting Jerry on the spot.

“You're here now,” Jerry replied resignedly. “So you may as well join us.”

Lara thought that was an ungracious way to confirm he was welcome to join them, but Rick took little notice. “Should I bring a glass?” he boldly asked.

“Yes,” Lara called, noticing that Jerry remained silent.