Annie’s Story
I turned over in the bed. Max was lying on his back, legs and arms thrown out like a child. His rumpled hair and unshaven jaw made me want to reach over and trace my fingers over his skin. He was even more attractive in his sleep than he was awake. Last night—our first night—had been wonderful, no awkwardness, and with plenty of sexual chemistry. Plenty of laughter, too.
If two people could laugh and talk even in their most intimate moments then there must be a real connection of minds and hearts and bodies. That was what I thought anyway.
The curtains on the windows were thin and the morning light shone through, illuminating his sparsely furnished bedroom. Max seemed to go for uncluttered in a big way, and I wondered how he would deal with my stuff, and with Courtney and her endless parade of stuffed animals. Not, I supposed, that I was going to move in straightaway or anything, but if I moved up here and our relationship deepened, well … it was on the cards.
So many things we had to sort out if—and it was a big if—I agreed to come up here and work on his boat.
Last night we’d gone down to the wharf to meet Kenny and the Ariadne, and I’d enjoyed being on the paddle-steamer again. Kenny had welcomed me aboard and we’d gone out with the last lot of passengers. This time I’d sat in the stern, a glass of champagne in my hand, and watched the flicker of the lengthening shadows on the water.
Max and Kenny had kept up a constant banter as they tidied up the Ariadne for the night. She was due out again tomorrow, but Kenny was still in charge. ‘I need a break,’ Max informed him. ‘I need to keep sharp.’
Kenny snorted. ‘You need to loll around with Annie, you mean. Do I get a pay rise?’
‘A good captain does the work for love.’
It went on like that as we climbed into the car and Max drove us out of town to a restaurant. It was an old homestead that someone had turned into an eatery, but there were tables outside in the garden and no one was overly dressed up. Max and Kenny knew the owners, and they introduced me. Everyone was very friendly and I enjoyed myself, laughing with the two brothers, watching the other guests in the garden. Children were running between the hedges of a maze, playing chasey, and I realised that I was missing Courtney.
Courtney would love it here. And it wasn’t as if we were that far away from Melbourne; she could still see her friends. Although, I suppose if we did move north then eventually, as time went on, we’d go to Melbourne less and less. It just seemed to be the way when you made a move, despite all your good intentions. I realised I was assuming we were going to permanently move the business away from Melbourne. Of course it didn’t need to be like that, but Echuca was as good a base as any, and I could take commissions anywhere in the country. I knew of other firms like ours who travelled to jobs. Reuben and I would still be in demand, we could still pick and choose the work we wanted.
‘Hello.’
Max had woken up and was watching me with a smile. His blue eyes were warm and direct and he reached out to brush my cheek with the backs of his fingers.
I smiled back. ‘Hello.’
My libido was kicking in again and I met him halfway as he rolled towards me. This was the life, I thought, before all thoughts left my head and I simply concentrated on feeling. His big hand on my breast, his warm breath against my cheek, the taut muscles of his thigh as he slid it between mine. Oh yes, I could get used to this.
* * *
‘I thought we might go for a ride on the river.’
We were sitting on the back verandah, drinking coffee and eating toast, while at the bottom of the garden the river went on its peaceful way. Several birds had arrived for crumbs, and I’d been particularly fascinated with two grey currawongs, with their white-tipped tails and yellow eyes. Max had his long legs up resting on the railing and gave a massive stretch of his arms and back.
I laughed. ‘You don’t look like you want to do anything.’
He caught my eye, gave me a wicked grin. ‘There’s something I’d very much like to do, but maybe later. Right now I think we should just relax on the river. Do you fish?’
‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘Can’t stand putting the bait on the hook.’
‘Okay then, we won’t fish, we’ll just drift. Sound good? And when we’ve had lunch I’ll take you to the shipyard where I’ll be bringing the Queen of the Rivers for repairs.’
‘Tell me about her,’ I said, biting into my toast.
Max put his hands behind his head and leaned dangerously far back in his chair. ‘She could carry twenty passengers in her day. She’d pick up the squatters at Echuca or wherever and take them home to their stations along the Murray, sometimes the Darling, if there was enough water in it, and very occasionally the Murrumbidgee. The Murrumbidgee’s always been a riverboat captain’s nightmare. She has an upper and lower deck, roomy cabins for the squatters and smaller shared cabins for the plebs. A dining room—I believe they used to serve up five meals a day and expect every scrap to be eaten. Oh and she’s a stern-wheel paddle-steamer. Think of the boats on the Mississippi in America.’
‘Like in Gone with the Wind or Maverick? Gambling boats?’
He gave me a resigned look. ‘I see you have a lot to learn, Annie.’
I giggled. ‘Sorry. I know what you mean. She sounds wonderful, Max, and I can’t wait to meet her. When are you going up to Wentworth to get her?’
‘Might take a while. She’s been in dry dock for so long we need to examine her closely before we put her under any stress. But I’m hoping by the end of the year? And it would be good if you and Reuben could come and take a look, too, work out a plan for the restoration.’
After breakfast we headed out in Max’s motor boat, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. The bush flashed by and I enjoyed seeing the ever-changing scenery. Water birds on the bank watched us pass, and the trees were full of colourful parrots, pink galahs and white cockatoos. It already felt as if it was going to be a good day, the sky more blue than cloudy, but it was chilly on the water and I was glad I’d worn a sweater.
Max pointed out the red gums. ‘They’re magnificent trees, but with the recent drought and increased irrigation, they’re under stress. Did you know they’re known as widow-makers because they drop boughs without warning during hot weather or times of drought?’
‘Nice.’ I looked up the mottled brown-and-grey trunks with their strange patterns, to the canopies of blue-grey leaves. Some of the trees had tipped over from their precarious hold on the bank and into the river, and there were others with huge branches stretching out to the sky.
‘The forests were full of timber getters once, hundreds of them. Red gum was used for railway sleepers as well as fence posts. It was pretty much rot free and lasted for ages, so there was a big demand for it. The logs won’t float, so they were loaded onto barges and hauled back up river by riverboats like the Ariadne, or else the barges were floated down river to Echuca to the sawmills. And during the boom times there were smaller sawmills along the riverbanks, too. It was a huge business before things took a dive in the early part of the twentieth century.’
‘Do you think Captain Potter used to carry red gum logs when he owned the Ariadne?’
‘Maybe. Or he could’ve carried bales of wool from the sheep stations. There was plenty of work in those days, the paddle-steamers would be flat out as soon as the snow melted up at the head of the river. The water came flowing down, lifting the draft for the boats, and they would be working until autumn when the level of the river dropped again.’
‘Do they still cut timber in the forests?’
‘It’s managed, but yes they do. Some of the Barmah Forest land is a national park, managed by the original owners, the Yorta Yorta Nation. Took them nearly thirty years to have their right to own land proved in the courts. Everyone is fighting over the river these days, the environmentalists and the irrigators. The red gum forests need to be flooded every so often, to keep the trees alive, but if they take too much water out of the river to irrigate then it won’t flood.’
‘So do you sit on the environmental fence?’
‘Probably, although I can see both sides. But if we destroy the river then what do we have left? We have to look after it.’
I thought about what he’d said as the river slipped by, but of course my thoughts soon reverted to Alice.
‘Do you think the timber-getter’s camp in the Trompe L’oeil is in there somewhere?’ I murmured, gazing at the trees. ‘Was Alice living here once upon a time?’
Max had slowed and now he began to turn the boat about, heading back the way we’d come. ‘I suppose she could’ve been. It makes sense. But we’ll probably never know for sure, Annie. Alice is going to remain a mystery in a lot of ways. Do you think you can live with that?’
Could I? I thought I could. I was aware that I’d never discover everything there was to know about Alice and Rosey. Too many years had gone by. And anyway, if I knew every little thing about them, wouldn’t I spoil the story for myself? It was good to have a little mystery.
‘Yep,’ I said at last. ‘I can live with that.’
* * *
We had lunch at a restaurant beside the river in town, with long glass windows looking directly onto the river and the paddle-steamers chugging by. Afterwards, Max took me to the shipyard, and confused me with talk about dry docks and boilers and deck planks. He met up with one of the men who worked there, and, after introducing me, they proceeded to have a long, serious talk about Max’s new project.
I was more than happy to wander about on my own, but by the time Max was finished, I was also glad to climb back into the jeep and head for home.
‘Do you mind if I stop for a minute?’ he said, when we were nearly at the bridge. ‘I have to make a pick-up.’
I didn’t mind and watched as Max jumped out of the car, saying he’d be a moment, before striding around the back of a small house with a lush garden. He returned a few minutes later with a medium-sized dog on a lead. When he opened the back door the dog leapt in, panting with excitement.
‘This is Matilda,’ he said, giving me a wry smile. ‘She’s a Kelpie. A friend was looking after her while I was away. I don’t like leaving her at the property by herself.’
‘Hello, Matilda,’ I said, and at the sound of her name the dog stretched up for a pat.
Max had opened the window halfway down at the back, and as we drove along Matilda stuck her head out, her tongue flapping in the breeze.
‘Feel like going out again for dinner?’ Max asked. ‘Or do you want to eat in?’
‘I think I’d like to eat in,’ I said, and thought how comfortable we sounded already. As if we’d been together for years. Riding along in the dusty Jeep with the dog in the back, talking about dinner. Was it a good thing to be so comfortable? I glanced at Max with his sunglasses on, staring at the road ahead, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms, his hair tousled by the draft from the open window.
A tingle ran through my body, and I thought I might let dinner wait a bit longer when we got home. Time for a quick visit to the bedroom.
Oh yes, I thought, being with Max was a very good thing.