The dead gum tree reared its stark white head from the river. How on earth? Not Sophie marooned in its branches like Ric had first thought, but Nina. His heart swelled with fear but also with love, a love as powerful as ever despite all their problems, as powerful as the raging flood itself. He angled his boat towards her. It had been taking on water right from the start. He’d only got this far thanks to constant bailing, and also because the little inflatable’s design made it extremely buoyant. But it wouldn’t float forever.
Ric sneaked in sideways at an angle to the current until his dinghy was parallel to the tree and Nina was almost within reach. Two of Sophie’s geese were with her. How extraordinary. He nudged closer. They’d have to hurry. The dinghy wouldn’t withstand being pinned by the full force of the current for long. ‘Are you hurt?’
Nina shook her head. ‘I found Sophie,’ she managed through knocking teeth. ‘She’s safe at my place.’
‘Are you serious?’ Ric went weak with relief and almost let the boat slide off the tree. Sophie was safe. How would he ever be able to thank Nina? ‘Come on.’ He offered his hand. ‘We need to go.’
‘Wait.’ Nina gathered the nearest goose in her arms. He leaned over and grabbed it from her. Trust Nina. She was as bad as Sophie when it came to those birds. The second goose was more difficult. It kept moving out of reach.
‘Leave it,’ he yelled. ‘We’ve got to go. I’m sinking.’ The rain was drumming harder, if that was even possible, and since he’d stopped bailing, the dinghy was taking on water fast. Nina ignored him and produced a piece of wire from nowhere. What was she, magic? She hooked the bird’s leg, and after a brief struggle it gave up all resistance. Ric grabbed the goose from her and placed it beside its sibling. The two touched beaks and started dabbling in the water in the bottom of the boat. He took a deep breath. ‘Your turn.’
Nina jumped across and for a moment he had her in his arms. Then they were away. Ric reversed clear of the snag, straightening up by letting the current swing the nose of the dinghy about. Nina started bailing. There was no point trying to fight the flow head-on. This was going to be a gradual escape. ‘Look.’ Nina pointed to a red gum sliding by on their left, its trunk split by lightning. Ric nodded grimly. Until now it had been hard to place their location on the flood-changed waterway, but there was no mistaking that landmark. Not far from the river junction. Once the wild waters of the Kingfisher joined the flow they’d be in real trouble. Nina bailed furiously and the dinghy gradually inched its way sideways, out of the main current.
Ten minutes later Ric beached the boat on the south side of the river. He jumped into knee-deep water with his eye on a good tie-up spot. ‘Throw me the line.’ He waded towards a stout post sticking half a metre out of the water.
‘You know what?’ Nina’s voice was excited. ‘That’s the corner strainer for my north paddock. Can’t remember the last time the water spread so far.’ She went short of cheering, but her joy was plain. The flood that had devastated the cotton and wiped him out was a boon for her. For the first time he really thought about the contradiction. ‘Look.’ Nina pointed downstream. A houseboat was moored in the distance, sheltering in the shallows. ‘It’s the Warriuka, I’m sure of it.’
Ric could barely see through the pouring rain, let alone identify a boat that he hadn’t seen for sixteen years. But hey, any port in a storm. They started towards it, wading through calf-deep water. The geese apparently saw Nina as some sort of Sophie substitute. They swam at her heels, stopping occasionally to nibble at blades of native grass. Nina picked a stalk. ‘See this water couch? Good as dead a week ago. It’s already greened up. Isn’t it marvellous?’ Ric nodded, feeling like a fraud. ‘Just wait till the cows and kangaroos get a bellyful of this,’ she said. ‘They’ll be happy as pigs in mud.’
At Donnalee the tough native couch was seen as a useless weed that choked irrigation channels. The answer was to poison it. He’d done it himself, plenty of times. Ric gazed around the rain-soaked corner of the river, then at Nina’s euphoric expression, and something shifted quietly, softly, within him.
Nina rubbed her hands together, trying to restore feeling to her fingers. They all sat around Warriuka’s little kerosene heater – Ric, Freeman, even the geese, preening and drying their feathers. The old man couldn’t contain his delight upon seeing the young birds.
‘You know what they say, don’t you?’ He whistled softly and fed Odette a crust of bread.
‘No,’ said Nina. ‘What do they say?’
‘That nuwalgang are birds of good fortune. That when they return to the river, they bring good luck back with them.’
‘That’s a lovely story.’ She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the geese couldn’t stay.
Nina moved closer to the heater. She was wearing one of Freeman’s button-up shirts and a blanket wrapped around her waist like a skirt. Her own clothes were draped over an airer behind the heater. Steam rose from them in soft grey curls. Ric sat beside her, still dripping on the floor.
‘I can’t believe you’re really here,’ she said to Freeman, trying to stem the violent shivers that randomly shook her body. ‘It’s been years since you’ve been up the Bunyip.’
‘Didn’t I promise to come back when the river rose?’
Memories of the party in Eva’s room came rushing back. ‘Yes,’ Nina said with a smile. ‘You did indeed.’
‘I’ll have you know I’m a man that keeps his promises.’ The whistling kettle summoned him to the stove and he returned with mugs of hot sweet tea. Nina wrapped both hands around her chipped cup, grateful for its warmth. ‘I’ve something else for you, Nina.’ Freeman pulled a little pouch from his pocket. It held an antique cameo on a fine gold chain. ‘It’s a locket. Go on, open it.’ For a few moments her frozen fingers fumbled with the clasp. Inside was a smiling photo of Eva. Nina stuttered her thanks, overcome with emotion.
Freeman turned his attention to Ric. ‘Sorry to hear about your dad. That was a tough break. The river’s deadly when she wants to be.’
Had Freeman heard the news about Nina’s father being charged? She guessed that he hadn’t. Nina held her breath. Would Ric say anything? She was so tired. Almost too tired to leap to Dad’s defence, but she would if she had to.
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Ric. ‘Any chance you could take us back up the river? My daughter’s home alone at Red Gums and I’m worried about her.’
If Freeman was surprised to hear that Ric had a daughter, he didn’t show it. ‘Sure,’ said Freeman. ‘My little Catfish, she’ll handle that river, no worries.’ He rose stiffly to his feet. ‘But first, there’s something I want to show you.’ Freeman took out a camcorder and fiddled with it for a bit, mumbling. ‘Always takes me a while to get the hang of it . . . here we go.’ He handed the device to Ric. From where she was, Nina couldn’t see, but she could hear recorded voices – Freeman and . . . Max Bonelli.
Ric sat perfectly still, transfixed by the little screen. Freeman’s gravelly voice was asking Max questions about his life on the river. His answers were surprisingly frank, although they had a drunken twinge to them. He’d come from Italy as a boy, he said, to stay with his grandparents. When they died he’d inherited Donnalee, and set about converting the rich grazing land to cotton. Cotton was the next big agricultural thing back then, he said, when water was free and nobody gave a thought to the possibility that one day it might run out. ‘What does the river mean to you?’ asked Freeman. ‘She means life,’ said Max. ‘Life for me, and for my family. I hoard her water like a dragon hoards treasure.’
The questions turned more personal. Some revelations moved Nina. Max talked of bigotry, of the early prejudice against him because of his accent and heritage. He spoke of his fears for his children, his hope that they wouldn’t face that same sort of intolerance. ‘I was a hard bastard,’ he said. ‘But underneath I wanted to protect them, toughen them up, make them strong. They didn’t realise that.’
‘What brings you out on the river today? From the looks of it, you’re going fishing.’
‘That’s right,’ said Max. ‘But I’m not after any old fish. I’m after the king of the river, that’s what, a fish twice the size of old Moby Dick himself. I’ll let you in on a secret.’ His voice turned low and conspiratorial. Nina edged closer to hear. ‘Today’s my birthday and my mate Tommo gave me the best present of all. Told me a secret he’s kept for years. Told me where to find the king’s cod hole.’ There was a long silence, then Max continued. ‘Going there now to catch the bugger.’
Nina’s head was reeling. The recording had been made on Max’s birthday? The same day he disappeared, the day her father was accused of murder. ‘Hang on, when did you tape that?’ Nina couldn’t contain herself any longer. ‘And where exactly?’ She stood up and looked over Ric’s shoulder. There was Max, his face redder than usual, although it might have been the quality of the recording. He was happy, animated, and in the background was Warriuka’s steering column. It had been videoed right here on the houseboat. A date and time flashed red in the corner of the screen, 4.15 p.m. 28.02. Dad had been home before four o’clock that day. Herself, Mum, Lockie – they’d all seen him. And yet here was Max, alive and well at four-fifteen. Four-fifteen. She began to laugh and cry all at once.
‘Look.’ She shook Ric’s shoulder and pointed at the time stamp. ‘Do you get it? Do you know what this means? My dad’s innocent.’
Ric stood and swept Nina up in one swift motion, wrapping her in the strength and safety of his arms. Pushing away the pain of the last few weeks. Forgiving her, asking to be forgiven. For that brief moment, she was fourteen again, down by the river, awaiting her first kiss. Their lips met in a heady mix of relief and joy.
‘Will someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?’ said Freeman.
‘We’re going to need your camcorder for a while,’ said Ric. ‘And the police will want to talk to you.’
Nina threw her arms around Freeman’s bony shoulders. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you . . .’ she chanted, taking hold of his gnarled brown hands and whirling him around in circles, almost losing her makeshift blanket skirt in the process. Nina danced him over to the couch, all weariness forgotten, and practically pushed him into it. ‘Sit down.’ She perched beside him. ‘Have I got a river story for you.’