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.’
CHAPTER 41
Half an hour later they all piled into Catfish, Freeman’s little runabout, collecting the leaky dinghy on the way. The rain had eased and Freeman was an expert boatman, but it still took an agonisingly lo
ng time to negotiate the powerful current. When they arrived back at Red Gums, Sophie was waiting with Jinx and the birds at the temporary tie-up place below the dam – a forlorn little figure huddled under an umbrella. Ric breathed a giant sigh of relief. Should he kiss her or kill her? He wasn’t sure.
When Sophie caught sight of the two geese on Catfish, her face shone with pure joy. ‘Odette, Igor. You’re safe!’
‘What about me?’ said Ric, jumping ashore and swinging her into his arms. ‘Are you happy to see me?’
‘Yes.’ She wriggled from his grasp. ‘Now give me my birds.’
Odette and Igor caught sight of Sophie. They honked in wild greeting, flapping their wings in Nina’s face. Freeman helped them over the side and they ran to the girl. She knelled down, hugging the happy birds to her, while their brothers and sisters crowded round.
Freeman handed Nina the camcorder, wrapped in plastic bags to keep out the rain.
‘How will you manage without it?’ she asked.
‘Like I used to.’ He grinned and pointed to his temple. ‘Keep the stories in here.’
‘Are you coming inside?’
Freeman shook his head. ‘Me and Warriuka, we’ll be back to see you when the Bunyip calms down.’ He fixed his dark eyes on Ric. ‘Something’s got her mighty stirred up, I reckon.’
Nina embraced him, and Freeman half-heartedly pushed her away. ‘That’s enough of that. Let an old man get on home, will you? There’s a thunderstorm coming. I can feel it in my bones.’ A final kiss and Nina jumped ashore. Freeman untied the dinghy’s tow rope and threw Ric the line. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for them other boats,’ he said. ‘They’ll turn up. And I’ll stay put for a few days till the cops get their statement.’ And then he was gone, letting the current carry Catfish downstream.
Ric sat with Sophie in front of the roaring fire, deep in thought. ‘Can my geese come in too?’ Sophie asked. ‘They’re cold in the kitchen.’ She cuddled Jinx tight, and glared at Ric when he shook his head. ‘I’m not going home with you,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me.’
He rubbed his hands together. The chill was finally leaving the marrow of his bones. ‘The bridge is out and I wouldn’t let you get in that dinghy, even if you wanted to,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to stay here for now.’
‘Not just for now,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m never going back.’
Nina rushed in, showered and changed, hair half dry, cheeks flushed with excitement. She’d never looked more beautiful. ‘I’m heading to Drover’s.’ She picked up the camcorder.
‘Can you hold off for an hour or so?’ said Ric, standing up. ‘Much safer to wait till the storm passes, and I have to go back to Donnalee for a bit, and don’t want to leave Sophie by herself.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
Ric moved close and whispered something in her ear.
‘Go,’ said Nina. Her goodbye kiss was soft on his lips, and he was more convinced than ever of what he had to do.
*
Ric shone the torch onto the body of the great cod. He’d braced himself for the smell of death, but the air in the coolroom was still sweet. He positioned a tarpaulin underneath and gently lowered her. Then he cut Guddhu free.
In a few minutes he’d hauled the tarp to the river’s edge. The floodwaters were just a few metres from the house now. He glanced uneasily about. The sky had grown even darker, if that was possible, and the air was electric with the coming storm. Rivers of rain poured down Guddhu’s body, glistening on her fine scales, bringing her once-bright colours back to life.
Ric crouched and held her head. He worked the vicious hooks loose from her jaw. Their razor-sharp points cut into his fingers, and red pearls of blood joined the raindrops on Guddhu’s gleaming skin. Forks of light flashed from the clouds, followed by a thunderclap so loud it shook the ground. The sky grew blacker still, and a dreadful urgency came over him. He stripped and stumbled thigh-deep into the lapping waters, dragging the tarp after him. The cod, at first a dead weight, grew lighter as she entered the river. Deeper and deeper he went, farther and farther into the flow, until at last she floated free. Ric gathered up the tarp and swam sideways, giving Guddhu clear passage. The current gathered her in its arms, buoyed her up, carried her downstream in a semblance of life. Lightning lit the sky, turning the water to shining quicksilver. And in that dazzling moment, he could have sworn that Guddhu swished her great tail, before vanishing into the flood.
Ric swam ashore and stood naked as the wind and rain raged about him. He was one with the storm, revelling in its power, rejoicing in this display of its might. He was transformed. Thanks to Nina he’d remembered who he was, and somehow, some way, he’d put things right.
Ric went to the house, into the dining room, and started to search. That letter from Bush Heritage, he had to find it.
CHAPTER 42
Nina stepped onto the verandah and cocked her head. The rain had stopped. Strange, to no longer hear its steady drum on the roof. She’d flown home from Moree with clearing skies and a light spirit, having shown the police and her astonished parents the taped interview – incontrovertible evidence of Dad’s innocence. The sound of Ric and Sophie bickering came through the kitchen window, and she moved closer to listen.
‘I told you,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m going to live here with Nina. I like her old bedroom. It’s got pony curtains.’
‘What would your mother say?’ said Ric. ‘She wanted you to live with me, not a stranger.’
Sophie’s voice swelled with indignation. ‘Nina’s not a stranger. She’s my friend, and anyway, Mum wouldn’t care.’ A chair squeaked inside and the little girl came running out. ‘Nina, I’m so glad you’re back. I have to talk to you.’ Sophie’s voice was high and urgent. ‘It’s important, a matter of life and death.’
‘Well,’ said Nina, ‘in that case, I’m all ears.’
Sophie took her hand. ‘Come into the kitchen. I want Dad to hear this too.’
Finally Sophie had them all seated at the table. She took a deep breath, fixed Nina with her big brown eyes and began. ‘You said my geese couldn’t stay here because they didn’t have parents to teach them to migrate, right?’
Nina nodded. ‘In a few weeks, instinct will tell them to fly away, but they won’t know where to go. They’ll get lost, and if they don’t find permanent wetlands . . . well, they won’t survive.’
‘Where would their parents take them if they were still alive?’
‘I don’t know for sure,’ said Nina. ‘But I’ve done some research. A few magpie geese overwintered at the Currawinya lakes last year. There’s a good chance that’s where they’re from.’
Sophie frowned. Nina had never seen anybody think so hard. ‘How far away is it?’
‘About five hundred kilometres. On the Queensland border, along the Paroo River.’
‘Is it safe there?’ asked Sophie.
‘Absolutely. It’s a national park, a Ramsar wetland.’
‘What’s a Ramsar wetland?’
‘A breeding site of worldwide importance,’ she said. ‘Listed under the Ramsar Convention. Wetlands are the only habitat in the world to have an international convention to protect them.’ She looked across at Ric to make sure he heard her. ‘I hope Billabong may be a Ramsar site one day, if we can talk your father out of turning it into a cotton farm.’ Ric gave an enigmatic smile.
‘I want my geese to go to those lakes for winter,’ said Sophie.
‘Well, we could drive them there,’ said Nina, ‘but they’d never find their way back to the Bunyip next spring.’
‘Not drive them,’ said Sophie. ‘Fly them. Teach them to migrate.’
The idea cannoned into Nina’s brain. Why not? Why shouldn’t she fly them there? ‘Oh, Sophie,’ she said after a few moments, ‘that’s a wonderful idea. What made you think of it?’
‘There was this movie —’
‘Of course there was,’ Ric cut in.
‘With a girl just like me – a mother-goose girl. She
teaches them to migrate by following a little plane.’
‘That’s just a movie, Soph,’ said Ric. ‘It’s not real.’
‘It might be a movie,’ said Nina. ‘But it’s based on real life. It’s been done with all sorts of birds.’ Nina’s head was spinning with excitement. Why hadn’t she thought of it? ‘Canada geese, trumpeter swans, northern bald ibis, Siberian and whooping cranes – even eagles and condors. As soon as the chicks hatch, they meet a human foster parent. Then for the next few months, the human stand-in spends almost every waking hour with the birds, feeding them, grooming them and playing with them – just exactly what Sophie’s done, right? Finally, the bond is so strong that the birds are willing to follow their parent anywhere. Even if that parent is sitting in a ultra-light aeroplane.’
‘Could we really do it?’ asked Sophie.
‘It’s never been done in Australia before. It would be a first, but I don’t see why not.’ Nina’s enthusiasm for the crazy plan was building by the second. ‘As long as your father agrees.’ She looked across at Ric’s bewildered face. ‘What do you say, Dad? Are you in?’
‘Please, Dad.’
‘Okay, I’m in,’ he said at last. Sophie squealed so hard that Jinx began to bark.
‘Right,’ said Nina. ‘Now all we need is the right aircraft.’
‘You’ve already got a plane,’ said Sophie.
Nina shook her head. ‘The Skyhawk’s too big, too noisy.’
‘My cousin’s got a trike, a two-seater. An Airborne Edge,’ said Ric. ‘Any good?’
‘That’d be perfect. Reckon you could get your hands on it?’
Billabong Bend Page 26
