In the early dawn Mark rises and directs her to her own bunk. He packs up his bedding and heads off into the growing light. She doesn’t ask him where to and instead falls into a deep dreamless sleep. The sun is well up when she wakes again.

  Mark is sitting alone with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table when she comes out. He fixes her another one to have with him.

  They spend the next three days together, jet skiing, sea kayaking, snorkelling, sailing. Best of all is horse riding. They ride along the beach together after breakfast that day, on sturdy ponies. Although Susan has done the equestrian thing in England, it’s the first time she’s ridden bareback.

  Mark is self-taught and is a superb rider, so well-balanced. She loves riding along with him, sometimes walking and trotting, knees brushing, other times a lolloping canter, and occasionally an all-out gallop as they race frenetically to get to the front, laughing and whooping with joy and exhilaration.

  From the very first day, Mark seeks an agreement from the riding school for them to ride alone rather than go with the organised group, telling of his life working with horses on large stations. Once they’ve demonstrated their riding ability, they’re given the same two ponies each day for two hours, to ride on their own. Their pattern is to ride along the beach to the furthest end, walking, trotting and an occasional gentle canter, moving slowly to draw out anticipation of the pleasure to follow. As they near the beach end their pace quickens as their desire grows.

  Out of sight they fall into the water and swim, but soon, clothes cast aside, they ravish each other. The return ride—a wild gallop—their perfect way to end each morning.

  Afternoons are spent on the water, sailing one day, jet-skiing the next, sea kayaking another, paddling around the point to their first day beach and repeating the pleasure they shared there.

  On the second night, in the small hours, when she wakes up beside him in their bed, outside under the stars, her hand is resting across his shoulder. She becomes aware of her fingers touching a hard scar, something that goes down deep into muscle. He awakes to her touch and she says, unthinking, “That must have been a deep cut. It feels like you were stabbed or shot. How did it happen?”

  She knows, even before he speaks, that he won’t tell her anything real. Instead he mumbles, “Horse threw me into a barb wire fence.”

  She’s sleepy and doesn’t want to dig deeper. She lets it pass, kissing the place, saying, “A real serious scar for barbed wire.”

  He grins at her in the half light. They both know it’s an untruth and yet each leaves the lie to lie there.

  The next day another thing happens. They’re sitting on the outside verandah, side by side, while she fiddles with her camera, thinking that tomorrow she’ll bring it and try take pictures of some fish. Another backpacker walks past, a young Australian girl. Seeing the camera, she says, “Shall I take a pic of you two together?”

  It sounds okay to Susan, and she’ll have a photo of Mark remember him by. But, before she can answer, Mark firmly shakes his head. “Don’t do pictures, thanks.”

  Susan says nothing, but gives the girl a small smile of thanks, not wanting to offend her for what seems like Mark’s impolite response. She shrugs at him, as if to say that’s fine, but something about his hesitance strikes her as unusual.

  Then there is the time when a big loudmouthed American man tries to get Mark to join a card game—they need an extra player. Mark politely declines the request, but the man won’t take no for an answer. He keeps pestering Mark in a badgering manner. He’s three inches taller than Mark, probably three stone heavier, and it looks like muscle not flab. He’s obviously used to getting his way, and it seems he assumes others will fall into line whenever he wants something.

  Susan is sitting part way along the verandah, book on lap, watching from the mid distance. She watches Mark’s face harden and his muscles tense. She wonders what will happen.

  After a minute of this pestering Mark turns to walk towards her, but the American follows, talking loudly about how he must be a wimp if he won’t play cards.

  In a split second, Mark turns back to him and stares. “Mate, you seem to be missing something. I said no. I’ll spell it out if you’re a bit thick. It’s capital N, capital O. It spells no and it means no. Now get out of my effing face. It won’t end well if I have to ask you again.”

  That is all Mark says. Then he stands looking up at this big strong man, eyes full of cold intent and devoid of emotion. Susan has a strong premonition that it could end badly and not for Mark; he gives out such a sense of danger, like a snake in the millisecond before it strikes.

  The other man drops his gaze, lost for words. He mumbles something and steps away, pretending he hasn’t backed down.

  Mark never moves a muscle until the man leaves. Then he says to her, “I hate bullies.” An instant later it’s like it never happened; he smiles at her saying self-deprecatingly. “Sorry, don’t let it spoil our day.”

  Despite these odd things Susan’s happy to have him fully to herself; he has such charm and captivates her so fully she doesn’t desire more.

  Susan abandons her plans to leave on the third day and stays for two more nights, unwilling to see their shared idyll end. But Mark has a week’s work planned in central Queensland, after which he must head on to Alice Springs, and Susan is Sydney-bound and can’t delay her flight any longer. At last, by the fifth day it’s inevitable they must go separate ways.

  Their ferry ride back to Townsville is sombre. Mark barely talks. An ache of impending loss settles over Susan. She’s grown huge affection for this sun-toughened man from out the back of somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, wherever it is. She knows there are many more layers of what makes him up that she has yet to reach. She’s sad her days discovering him are at an end.

  As the ferry approaches the dock Mark asks, “What are your plans from here? Where to after Sydney?”

  “Well, I’ve five days planned in Sydney, then three days in Melbourne. After that I’ve ten clear days until I’m due in Darwin for my flight home. It leaves on the Sunday and gets into Heathrow early Monday. I want to see the outback. Perhaps I could go via Uluru or Alice Springs or maybe to Perth and head up the west coast. Places like the Kimberly and Shark Bay sound amazing. You know your way around. What do you think?”

  “There’s a chance I could be in Alice around the time you come. Shall we try to meet? At least make space for another day and night or two, if you’re keen.”

  She tries to read his body language; there is something inscrutable in his face. She doesn’t know if his offer is just politeness or if he wants to be with her again, the way she wants to be with him, so she says, “If only, but don’t make me promises you can’t keep. How long will you be there?”

  “I have to do a trip from Alice to Darwin around that time. It’ll take about a week, going overland to some remote places, a detour into the desert and a night on a big crocodile river. Does that sound like something you want to do?”

  “That sounds wonderful!”

  Something in the way he says it makes it feel indefinite. She doesn’t quite see it happening, believe they’ll get together again.

  A bus is waiting near the ferry terminal to take passengers to the airport and several others climb aboard. She buys a ticket on it, her plane leaves in another hour.

  At final parting they hug tightly. As he starts to pull away he hands her a card with ‘Mark’ and a mobile number written on it. “Think about it. If you decide to come by Alice the week after next and you want to see the real bush, send me a text to let me know. Maybe you can join me on my trip from Alice to the Top End, that’s if you don’t mind my doing some bits of business along the way. It’s your chance to see all the nature and emptiness. If it’s what you want I think we can make the timing work. If you let me know I’ll try to line it up. Until I get to Alice I’ll mostly be out of phone contact, so a text is best.”

  Despite her uncertainty about his words and emotions Susan’s spirits lift with a surge of hope. She tucks the card into her purse and gives him a brittle smile and a wave as she walks towards the waiting bus. Mark’s expression remains inscrutable, but she’s sure it holds more than indifference.

  Suddenly she doesn’t want it to end like this, with an almost casual goodbye. She runs back to him and he puts his arms out. She presses her body against him one last time, nuzzling her face into his rough cheek. “Mark, I really want to see you again. I hate saying goodbye. Meeting you has been so special for me. I want more.”

  “Me too.” He holds her close. For brief seconds it’s only the two of them, and the world beyond fades to nothing. Then an urgent toot of the bus pulls her back and they finally separate.

  Chapter 5 – Sydney and Melbourne – Days 10-16

  Susan is perplexed by her own deep sadness as the plane climbs away from Townsville. The view of the reef and mountains is as spectacular as it was on arrival, but she barely looks up, lost deep in memory.

  Her time with Mark was wonderful but intense; their intimate connection barely stopped for a minute. Now she needs to catch her breath. Their physical and emotional contact was so powerful, and the sex, after a long deprivation, was beyond words. When she was with Mark she barely thought about anything else; it was an all-consuming pleasure addiction.

  It had never been like that with Edward, despite sex being a great part of the lives, and one of the things that had kept them together, despite other differences. But Mark’s wild physicality, coupled with a lack of restraint, was something else again. She feels that sexual part of her being is worn out and needs a good rest. But as she thinks of his sometimes sad and distant eyes and his warm hard body, she knows she’d do it all again without hesitation. The feelings he’s awakened in her are something way beyond her control, like trying to stop a bolting horse or hold back a fast running river.

  Can she trust these feelings? There’s still so much she doesn’t know about Mark. Sure, he’s told her lots of stories of his work and places he’s been, but they never did get the chance to talk about his family, friends, past relationships, or others in his life. Of these people she knows nothing. Not even where he came from or where he grew up. Uncertainty twinges in her gut. If she thinks about it, he hasn’t told her a single personal thing about himself.

  Her instinct tells her that he hides a dangerous edge, something ruthless and uncompromising that will not accommodate to anyone who tries to push him against his will. She’s seen occasional glimpses, like that first day diving, when she and Maggie had struck up an instant friendship. Suddenly, he didn’t want to keep doing things with her; a shutter came down, and she was instantly blocked from his mind and plans. Then of course there was the time with her camera and the episode when he stared down the loudmouthed American. That time there was no mistaking the danger.

  But that incident was an exception. Normally Mark was great fun to be with, absolutely fearless and willing to try anything. And he was kind and gentle with her, giving her his full, undivided attention whenever he was with her.

  But she was certain, except for that first night when they went to the pub together, that he had a strange reluctance to go to public places with her, little desire to hit the town or socialise with others at the hostel.

  He was also reluctant to engage in group activities—organised tours he did under sufferance. At the time she was happy to have him all to herself; his presence consumed her so fully she’d desired nothing more.

  It was that his private life and emotions that were a hidden book. Every time she tried to find a way inside she drew a blank. She knew he really liked her, not just the physical pleasure of their sex. From the outset he’d said this was more and he had an intimate tenderness towards her which was quite breathtaking.

  All in all, it was five wonderful days. She already misses his serious but smiling face, with those far away eyes, seeing places she did not know and could not begin to imagine.

  She pushes thoughts of him away. Now she’s off to Sydney, where she’ll get her fix of city life and society. She’s always wanted to see the famed city, with the sparkling harbour shown in boat races, the magnificent bridge and opera house, lit up each year with New Year’s fireworks.

  Susan has cousins living here who have visited her family a couple times in England where they had spent some weeks together and became close. They’re great fun and have offered to show her the sights and nights and let her stay with them at their place in Newtown, close to the city, in what they’ve said is a done-up workers’ cottage.

  She plans for five days here, then on to Melbourne for a couple days. She still has a couple days yet before needing to lock in flights and travel arrangements for where to go after Melbourne. It will be good to let the decision sit for a couple of days until she’s regained some perspective. With that settled she sits back in her seat, looking forward to her hours of solitude before her Sydney arrival.

  Ruth, one of her cousins, meets her at the airport with girlish screams of delight. They drive through the first real traffic she’s seen since London. Ruth gives her a running commentary on Sydney and all there is to see and do. Soon they’re crawling down a main road, choked with cars and people, which brings them towards the city.

  Ruth’s older sister, Jessica, and Jess’s boyfriend, Robert, own the Newtown house. It’s in a narrow street, about a hundred yards behind the main drag, King Street. Ruth rents one of the three bedrooms.

  Jess is two years older than Susan. Ruth is around Susan’s age and they’re good friends. Ruth’s taken the week off her work to show her around and have ‘girl fun together’, as she calls it.

  It’s mid-afternoon when Susan unpacks her things. After a ritual cup of tea, with English chocolate and biscuits which she brought from England, especially for them, they walk along King Street inspecting a myriad of restaurants, junk shops, and upmarket places.

  The place has great buzz, people everywhere of all colours, shapes and sizes, shop wares and café tables spilling onto sidewalks, bookshops and bars both doing a roaring trade, restaurants of every nationality, a bit seedy, but familiar in feeling to the area she lived in London with Edward. A strange sense of loss settles over her. She and Edward once had something similar to this. Even though she had not realised it when they split, she misses street society in big cities.

  She and Ruth walk along, chatting and swapping stories, only half-looking at the sights. They pick a restaurant for dinner and make a reservation. “It’s mainly vegetarian food, but there are a couple of good seafood options,” Ruth tells her.”

  After dinner it is off to the Rocks, next to Circular Quay, a place of grand early 1800s Georgian style pubs with live music, facing out onto Sydney Harbour. They’ve arranged to meet Ruth’s boyfriend at an old pub called The Orient Hotel.

  They squeeze into a corner table. The music is loud but not deafening. Familiar songs by Queen and Meatloaf come on and they get up to dance. A few men try pick-up lines, but although they look good, and Ruth gives them thumbs up, Susan feels no attraction and declines. When the songs end they sit down again.

  “When you rang me before you flew out you said you were keen to meet new men now that Edward’s gone,” Ruth says. “Why turn the dance offers down? You seem a bit distracted. What gives?”

  “I had a backpacker fling at Magnetic Island. I think I need a night or two off, nights on my own, if you know what I mean.”

  Ruth gives her a knowing look and they giggle together before Ruth goes to the bar for another drink and then they dance some more.

  Ruth’s boyfriend, Stephen, comes along an hour later with another friend. Ruth introduces them. “This is our good friend, David. David, I’d like you to meet Susan.”

  David smiles and holds out his hand.

  They find chairs and expand the table. Dave squashes into the corner next to Susan. He’s tall, well-built and good looking, with sun bleached blond hair—close to gorgeous actually. Susan is engaged by his smile and charm. He seems to like her too, looking at her with interest.

  “How do you know Ruth and Stephen?” Susan asks.

  “Ruth was a friend of my ex. Stephen and I used to work together, so he met Ruth through us. The ex is gone but the friendship remains.”

  “What’s your work?”

  I used to work for an IT start-up, which developed software for doctor’s surgeries tracking their medical tests. Then I decided to do it on my own. So, I launched my own start-up, similar concept, different but related field, secure data analysis and record systems for biotechnology firms.” He explains some more, and she listens with interest.

  “I’m pleased your eyes didn’t glaze over when I talked about work stuff. Saying what I do has that effect on many people. How about you? What’s your line of work?”

  “I did medical science subjects at uni. Now I work in a laboratory that does medical tests. Once it was mainly pathology and blood chemistry, now more and more tests are DNA based. We amplify and test DNA markers, both for medicine and forensic purposes.”

  They chat for while about this common interest.

  Dave absently puts his hand on her knee while they talk.

  She involuntarily recoils.

  He pulls his hand back. “Sorry.”

  She feels relieved. She knows she’s not bound in any way to Mark, and Dave is handsome, charming and appeals to her taste, but she still doesn’t want this presumptuous casual touch.

  His gesture seems too intimate, yet she responded so positively to Mark, throwing herself at him, welcoming physical intimacy. The touch of this attractive man isn’t something she’s wants now though. She’s sure she could enjoy Dave’s company and a physical relationship with him, but her mind’s not in that space—not now anyway.