by Helen Burton
He sighed and looked directly at Paul. "I'm invisible. I'm working my guts out for this company and I'm invisible."
"Well that's not good mate, but I think that we're getting into the second letter, E. You need to have SELF UNDERSTANDING but then the next step is your EXTERNAL IMAGE. How others see you. For me, I've never had to advertise. Got all my jobs through word-of-mouth because I never take on anything I can't do bloody well and I always do my best."
David's eyes were starting to glaze a little.
Before he could lose him, Paul continued, "I tell you what, mate. Let me tell you a story that will make the whole thing clear. About how I met my wife. About how we spent a weekend trapped on an island with a murderer."
He had David's full attention now. Paul sat back and drained his glass. "So, as I was saying, let's start with me." He pointed to his glass and caught the waiter's eye. "I was on this ferry off the coast of north Queensland, near Cairns…."
3
"Choppy enough for you?"
Paul shifted his eyes from the dark seas that were pounding the side of the ferry and turned his attention to the captain.
He nodded. "Looks like it'll be your last trip of the day."
"Haven't I seen you around town?" The captain joined Paul near the bow and gazed out to the horizon.
"Yeah I do some work for Bob Sandbourne in Cairns every now and again, fixing bits and pieces. But I haven't been out this way before."
"You chose a hell of a day to have a look."
"Me and a few other fools," said Paul nodding to the handful of passengers inside.
The captain followed his glance through the glassed-in cabin to the passengers sitting in various stages of discomfort on the benches. "They don't look like they've done a real day's work amongst them."
"No but I bet they earn a hell of a lot more than we do, mate," said Paul with a wry smile.
"Yes you can be sure of that, but then who'd want to be shut up in an office on a day like today?" The captain turned back to the railing and looked out into the purple skies and churning green of the sea. "I wouldn't trade this for quids, would you?"
"No I reckon you're right mate. But it looks like today could test your mettle." Paul looked up at the threatening sky. "What's the story with the cyclone?"
"Oh they reckon its changed course and is heading out to the Pacific. Someone will get some trouble but not us."
"Don't speak too soon. Someone's not too happy with you I think," Paul looked pointedly over the captain's shoulder as a red-faced bull of a man stormed towards them.
"Are you the captain of this vessel?" The question was fired at the captain by someone who was used to asking questions and giving orders.
"Yes sir I am," the captain stood to attention.
"Well I'm not happy with this rough passage. Some of my team are turning green. Can't you do anything about it?"
The captain kept a straight face. "Well sir there is a cyclone about."
"Yes I know I know, but can't you steer in calmer waters?"
The pause before the captain's answer was just a fraction too long to be respectful.
"Not if there aren't any calm waters to be had sir."
The passenger looked thrown for a moment, but he recovered in a second and tried a different tack. "Perhaps you don't know who I am. Arnold Strong. CEO of Medivalue Incorporated."
The captain and Paul stared back blankly.
"The fastest growing medical research company in the southern hemisphere," growled the explanation.
"Sorry sir, I've never heard of it. But I can assure you that I have a perfect safety record and even though the trip may not be as smooth as you would like, I will get you to your destination safely." The captain stood firmly and met Arnold Strong's gaze.
Arnold finally looked away briefly. "Well I'm not happy. Perhaps if you were steering the boat instead of gossiping with the crew we might get somewhere," glancing at Paul and evaluating him in an instant.
Paul leaned back against the rail with his arms crossed.
"Don't let my lack of a suit and tie fool you mate. I'm not help. I don't work for anyone except myself."
"Really… Well," for an instant Strong looked unsure of himself, "Just see to it will you?" With that he turned and stalked away. The boat pitched at that moment and he stumbled and was forced to grab for the rail before disappearing inside.
Paul grinned. "Always amazes me when someone says the biggest or best in the southern hemisphere. What's the bloody competition? South Africa? Tonga?"
The captain smiled and, shaking his head, turned and ducked into the wheelhouse.
As the boat continued to pitch dramatically Paul turned his attention to the other passengers in the cabin, keen to see who was turning green.
A tall man with trendy glasses sat in the corner, trying to ignore the movement of the boat and balancing a laptop on his knees. He didn't look like he spent much time out of doors. Paul dismissed him as a lightweight and turned his attention elsewhere. An attractive blonde woman was trying to read a romance novel but was struggling to concentrate. She looked like her hair colour and her tan came out of a bottle. Arnold Strong had spread his legs across the benches and was trying to catch her eye. The cabin door opened and a dark-haired woman in her thirties went to the rail with a handkerchief to her mouth. Paul imagined she was trying to avoid vomiting on what looked to be a very expensive suit. She was soon joined at the rail by a white haired gentleman who looked as if he had been a fit young man but one too many business lunches had taken their toll. He was having trouble with his sea-legs but was striving to hang on to his dignity. He tried to have a conversation with the brunette but she shook her head and waved him away. He looked angry at being dismissed and stalked off towards the stern. He looks a bit like my dad thought Paul as he turned back to the boat's bow, more interested in studying the coastline than the passengers.
4
The peninsula was coming into view and Paul wondered again why he had agreed to come so far out of his way — and on a weekend. He was making a good living contracting out as a handyman after a hard two year slog and he could afford to say no to jobs now. Perhaps it was the female voice on the other end of the phone earlier in the day which had sounded so intriguing.
"Hello is this Sandy's Handyman services?"
"Yes it is." Paul was sifting paperwork on his desk and was distracted by the piles slipping off the edge and into the wastepaper basket.
"I am calling from The Edge resort on the Briney Peninsula, do you know it?"
"Yes vaguely. What's wrong?"
"Well we have a number of jobs that need doing but the main one is the generator and, as there is a cyclone about," she paused, "well it's quite urgent. I usually ask Mr Sandbourne but he's away at present." Her voice trailed off.
She sounded like she was in her mid thirties and not used to asking for help.
"Yeah Sandy does like to go walkabout from time to time."
Silence.
"Well, can you help us Mr…?"
"Call me Paul."
There was something heartfelt about her plea. He found himself considering the cost of getting to the resort and whether he could juggle a dozen other jobs that were planned for the following week.
"So how much time do you think it would take?"
"A day or two."
"But today's Friday," he said, stating the obvious and frowning at the thought of missing his regular Saturday game of footie. Paul peered out the window at the sky. It didn't look like the game would be on anyway and he was curious about this fancy resort.
"Yes it is."
Her voice cut through his thoughts. And he looked at the mounting pile of paperwork and considered the prospect of spending a weekend away from it with a desperate young woman. He could see himself as the knight in shining armour.
"If I were to get there this afternoon do you have a bed I could use for the night?"
He could hear a sigh of relief on the other end
of the line.
"Yes of course. You'll have to catch the ferry. There's a road but with the rain it's been washed out and I don't expect the council to repair it until next week sometime. Is that okay?" She rushed on, not letting him say no. "There's a group coming for the weekend. I tried to put them off because of the cyclone but they insisted. The ferry's at 4 o'clock. So I'll expect you'll meet them then. There's five of them. There won't be any other guests, they've all cancelled of course."
She paused.
"Is all of that okay?"
"Yep no worries luv. Tell the boss I'll come this afternoon."
"I am the boss," she fairly bristled. "The Edge is my business."
"Yeah okay keep your hair on. I didn't mean to offend." He had heard that the new retreat was run by a woman. She sounded like she could hold her own and he was intrigued.
She continued in a business-like manner, her moment of vulnerability gone. "See you this afternoon then. I'll meet the ferry."
"Cheers love." Paul hung up slowly and turned from his desk to look out the window. His house sat on the cliff above the town from where he commanded a great view of the ocean. Thick black storm clouds were hanging over the coast and the seas looked rough. It was going to be a bumpy trip.
His thoughts were dragged back to the present when the ferry's tone changed from a roar to a steady hum and was starting to nose closer to the shore. A pleasant white wooden jetty with a small mini bus parked alongside it was the only hint that they weren't being dropped off at the edge of the world. A small natural harbour meant that the ferry could easily dock, deposit passengers and return to Cairns in under thirty minutes. The captain was obviously used to the run and under his expert hand the ferry docked successfully despite the rough seas. Everyone looked grateful to hear the engines reduce to a low rumble and the Medivalue team stretched and started to gather their things. Paul noticed that Arnold Strong grabbed his briefcase and shouldered past the others to make sure he was first down the gangplank. Paul descended last after slinging his backpack over a shoulder and grabbing a large, heavy toolbox. He turned and waved to the captain who was already untying the boat and hurrying to head back. He saluted smartly in response and with a "good luck" went back into the wheelhouse.
Waiting at the bottom of the ramp was a fit-looking woman in her mid thirties with long hair tied back under a baseball cap. "Welcome to the Edge." The voice was light and cheerful. In a no-nonsense chambray shirt, khaki shorts and boots she looked like she could handle most things. Except perhaps Arnold Strong.
"Are you the owner?"
"Yes I am Louise Able. You must be Mr Strong." She extended a hand which was ignored.
"Well are you the entire welcoming party or is there someone to help us with our bags?"
"Yes to both questions Mr Strong. I am your host for this weekend, you are the only guests, and yes I will now help you with the bags. I am sure you gentlemen won't mind helping the ladies."
She bent forward and picked up both the women's bags with ease and headed towards the van. The young man with the laptop and the white-haired man quickly followed suit, picking up their own cases and following the women.
"Huh," Arnold Strong was not used to carrying his own bag and looked around.
"Don't look at me mate." Paul picked up his toolbox and followed the others, enjoying Strong's blustering and panting behind him.
Louise Able — or Lou, as she asked everyone to call her — kept up a running commentary on the drive along the shoreline and then through the rainforest as they moved inland. She spoke about the plants, birds and animals they might be lucky enough to see on the weekend. The Medivalue team's attitude failed to match her enthusiasm. Arnold seemed particularly unimpressed with the vegetation passing by the bus window. He had been quiet for a few minutes but couldn't help interrupting her narrative.
"I hear you get a good swell around here. Great for windsurfing."
"That we do Mr Strong," said Lou, flashing him a quick smile. "But with the weather such as it is I wouldn't be recommending it. Cyclone Bertha is supposed to be moving away from the coast but you never can tell up here. Far north Queensland is a funny place. I've lived here most of my life and I've seen some strange things happen."
"A bit of rough water won't worry me. I've been involved in extreme sports all my life. Surfed all over the world." Arnold looked around the mini bus to make sure that everyone was suitably impressed.
Paul noticed the blonde woman look at Strong with concern as if she wanted to say something. Strong smiled at her and winked. She shot him quick smile and then smoothed down a skirt which barely skimmed her knees. "Well, well, well," thought Paul, "perhaps Strong might be thinking about more than one kind of recreation this weekend."
"I don't seem to be getting any mobile phone reception here." The younger man had taken off his suit coat but had obviously not relaxed out of work mode just yet.
"Yes Mr…?
"Nathan Clearview."
"Yes Mr Clearview I am afraid that the communications tower on the mainland is not very reliable. One of the struggles we have being out in the regions — it's not profitable for a telecommunciations company to actually provide us with a service. I have a two-way radio for emergencies. The reception should improve when we get to the Edge."
Clearview snapped his phone shut, tucked his hands under his armpits and stared out of the bus window.
"Don't worry Clearview, the wife can last for two whole days without hearing your dulcet tones." Arnold smirked and Nathan shot him a look of pure venom.
"Wanting to maintain contact with my wife when she is seven months pregnant is not an unreasonable request Arnold."
"Oh no," Arnold laughed, "easy to see who's tied to the apron strings."
Nathan ignored the comment and continued to stare out of the window. Arnold chuckled; obviously pleased his barb had hit the mark.
Paul sat back even further and smiled. He hadn't seen this much drama since his last girlfriend had got him hooked watching the "Bold and the Beautiful". And he was getting paid. This was better than cable TV.
The brunette in the suit had seemed to perk up since getting off the boat.
"Excuse me Lou. I'm Kylie, Kylie Humann the HR Manager at Medivalue. Did you say 'on the mainland'? I thought we were on the mainland."
"Yes well spotted Ms Humann," said Lou, talking over her shoulder. "We tend to think of ourselves as an island here because we get cut off so often with bad weather, or a possum chews through the wires or we get a landslide and the road gets blocked. We have to be pretty self sufficient."
"I see." Kylie started to chew her lip.
"What's wrong with you Kylie my girl, worried you might break a nail and not have anywhere to get it repaired?" Arnold turned around in his seat and leered at her.
Kylie, clearly offended at the "girl" nonetheless replied politely. "No Arnold, I was just curious about how we might manage if there was a cyclone. I did tell you that I thought it was a bad idea to continue with this strategic planning weekend with the weather looking this way."
"That's why I insisted we still come out here this weekend. Teach you office wimps a thing or two about real life if you have to battle the elements." Arnold searched for validation. "Isn't that right?" He turned to Paul. "You look like a man who can look after himself."
Paul turned slowly to face Strong. "Actually I got to be this old and this ugly by not putting myself in dangerous situations. Me, I'd rather be home right now with my feet up drinking a stubbie and watching the footie. But then I don't have anything to prove."
Kylie flashed him a quick smile and Arnold's face froze. Before he had a chance to respond, Lou threw Paul a dirty look in the rearview mirror and said loudly, "We're here."
5
The bus pulled up in front of a rustic lodge, with several cabins and outbuildings clustered on a gently sloping ridge under a low sandstone cliff. The main building's stone and timber construction with wide verandahs was a cross between ty
pical Queensland architecture and a North American hunting lodge. In front of the main building a lawn stretched for 500 metres before disappearing over the edge. As the passengers got out of the minivan they could hear the sound of the surf pounding on the rocks below.
"Excuse me. How far down is it to the beach?" The older man finally spoke. He had obviously only just recovered from the ferry and was grateful to be standing on his own two feet.
"About 50 metres straight down, but there's a path with a railing to guide you down if you want to go for a walk. Let's get you all inside and then to your cabins — it looks like it's about to pour." Lou grabbed a couple of bags and headed inside just as penny-sized drops thudded onto the stone path.
By the time they were all inside, it had turned as dark as night outside and the wind had started to pick up.
"It doesn't look like we are going to get much of a sunset tonight folks, I'm sorry. Usually it's beautiful." Lou positioned herself behind the reception counter.
"I'd just like a shower and a hot meal thanks," said Kylie. "I don't need a sunset."
"Me too," echoed the young blonde. Her hair had been blown about by the wind and her make-up had seen better days.
Lou sensed she didn't often travel far without the benefit of a make-up mirror and a hairdryer. She started with her. "I'm sorry I didn't get your name."
"Yasmin… Yasmin Perfect."
"Yes Ms Perfect, you're in "Rainbow Lorikeet" and here's your key."
Lou caught her puzzled look. "All of our cabins are named after wildlife to be found on the property. Here's a map. Your cabin is here." Lou circled with highlighter. Yasmin made eye contact with Strong and repeated, "I'm in Lorikeet." Paul, standing back from the group, observed her quick glance. He smiled.
