Show Me the Sky - Nicholas Hogg [22]
‘Two of us?’
‘A childhood friend of Cal’s. Philip Bell. Said he wanted to meet me, to know more about his friend.’
‘That’s quite a coincidence.’
‘After what happened, you know, I think I need other people to make me talk. It was hard enough breaking the news to his family, well, if you could call them his family. But you want to know something more about the manuscript, the journal?’
‘Yes, and how Cal found it.’
‘We were only together a month. But for three of those weeks it was the two of us on his motorbike. He’d just arrived in Darwin from London, and needed to shake off the city before crossing the deserts. He knew I’d cycled all the way from Adelaide, and his chat-up line was something about me saving his life, and if I didn’t teach him a few tricks of the desert he’d probably get lost and die. I told him this wasn’t funny, that he should take the outback seriously. Forget the snakes and spiders, it’s no water that will kill you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s good for me to talk. I think. Again he came to me and said I should be his teacher. I said no, he should learn himself. But really I liked him. He was direct. What do you say, cheeky?’
‘Ha. Yeah, cheeky.’
‘It took me a few days to lose the solitude of the desert. I’d been cycling alone for weeks, months. I forgot how to communicate, have fun, and, you know, be admired. But he was very persistent, and finally I gave in.’
‘Did you travel together?’
‘He was going where I’d already been, the central deserts. He was typical English bravado, wanted to conquer the sands like Lawrence of Arabia. And something else about his drive, some trauma he was running from. But this only made him more interesting to me. Anyway, I told him to use his brain before his body. Before his journey south we went on a little trip to Kakadu, you know, to see the crocodiles and the giant lilies, and then on to Litchfield Park. We toured around for three weeks on his motorbike. For ten days it was just the two of us, completely alone. We took turns on the pillion. He was impressed how I rode, and we went deeper into the park, off the tracks, camping by the springs and waterfalls. So beautiful. Cooking at dusk, talking around the fire, then … then the morning, swimming naked in the streams and rock pools with the little silver fish. We were Adam and Eve. Time stretched for ever. We found aboriginal paintings, pictures of humans transformed into animals, flying, dancing, giving birth to the world. We could’ve stayed for weeks but we finally ran out of food. Because we were afraid of leaving the bush we actually fasted for a day and night, only drinking from the stream. Hungry yes, but for each other, not food. Then finally we had to go. Now, I don’t believe in signs, you know, omens. But on the way from the park, we had to ride between the bushfires. Huge, some of them, the smoke so black against the blue sky. Let me show you something … One moment. I have a picture.’
‘Of the bushfires?’
‘And Cal … Here.’
‘Wow. You’re so close to the flames. Who took it?’
‘The timer. I told you he was crazy. He rode right up to the fire, jumped off the bike and put the camera on a rock. About ten seconds after this picture, this tree here, just exploded. Whoosh. A firework. And Cal was laughing and laughing, the sparks showering us as we rode away … riding and laughing … Excuse me.’
‘I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Here, I have a tissue.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m sorry to bring all this back.’
‘It’s OK. I’ve kept too much inside for too long. This is why I couldn’t stay in France. I had to come back here, to the desert, and the sky.’
‘Not a lonely place to live?’
‘There is more life than meets the eye in the desert. And anyway, I share this home with my fiancé.’
‘A fiancé? Is he French too?’
‘Australian, part aborigine. And you?’
‘Erm … separated. I have a daughter, four years old. Gemma. But anyway, we don’t want to hear about me. Now, I’m sure it’s not