Riverboat Point (3 page)

She tested the hot tap again. The water felt slightly less cold or was it her imagination? She had to presume Ethan Daly knew what he was doing. She wasn't prepared to get her hands dirty cleaning out mice debris until she had a decent quantity of hot water. She'd done a search for cleaning products throughout the shack and as expected, Jaxon's supply was limited. In the laundry she'd found one old battered bucket that had a decaying mop stuck to its base and half a bottle of bleach. No other detergents other than dish-washing liquid, no disinfectant and no rubber gloves.

Similarly, the fridge held little of interest as far as food went. The cheese was mouldy, the milk out of date and the crisper revealed a few withered carrots and a bag of liquid that could once have been a capsicum. She closed the door. Again she cursed her brother and whatever he was up to.

She paced the living area. Back at the kitchen bench, she snatched up the keys she'd removed from the back door. She would make a trip into town for supplies. At least that would fill the time while she waited for the water to heat.

It crossed her mind she should check directions. She'd driven around in the dark for quite a while last night. She'd passed a sign that said
Riverboat Point
but how far back or which road she'd been on she couldn't remember.

She half turned in the direction of Ethan's place but stopped as she heard the sound of an engine starting nearby. Through the trees that followed the fence between Jaxon's and his neighbour's, she saw a bike drive away. Ethan wasn't hanging around to offer further help. Used to managing on her own, she preferred it that way. If it hadn't been for Jaxon's archaic hot water service she wouldn't have needed to ask for help.

Her car keys jangled to the concrete floor of the carport. Annoyed, she bent to pick them up, ignoring the dull ache in her left leg as she caught a glimpse of the river. She straightened, gazing to her right then to her left. Brown water as far as she could see in either direction. This was the mighty Murray River. Hard to imagine it was the lifeblood of the state and the centre of much political wrangling. Her gaze came back to the four houseboats tied up at the bank below. She frowned. What had Ethan said about those boats and bookings?

She climbed into her car. First things first. She had to find the town, get some supplies and tackle the vermin-infested house. Then she'd worry about the rest.

The early morning mist and cool air had completely disappeared, replaced by a bright blue sky and sunshine. Savannah turned out the gate and followed the dirt road back the way she had come last night. Daylight revealed little more of her surroundings. Thick trees and bush hugged both sides of the road. Every so often she came to a gate and a driveway and got an occasional glimpse of a roof or a wall. No sign of people or another car. For all she knew she was totally alone out here.

A couple of smaller roads ran off to the left and then to the right. Last night she probably took both of them when she was looking for Jaxon's place. Finally she came to a T-junction. She turned right and stopped beside the sign pointing in the direction she'd just come. The sign said Old Man's Landing Road but Jaxon had said there should also be a blue sign pointing to J&S Houseboats. It wasn't there.

She continued on and was relieved, after a few more twists and turns, to find the bitumen road ahead. A sign declared
Riverboat Point 3 kms
. Once more the J&S Houseboats sign was missing. Perhaps Jaxon had planned to put the signs up and hadn't got around to it. That would make sense.

She moved out onto the main road. Not much further to civilisation. A few minutes later she was revising that thought. She'd driven the extent of the small community made up of an assortment of old and new houses, some of which were obviously holiday shacks. Another houseboat business and a caravan park hugged the river close to a small jetty. Back from that was an old double-storey dwelling with beer signs out the front and a sign declaring
Accommodation Available
. She assumed it was some kind of hotel. Further on, tucked in a bend of the road as it followed the river, was a shop. She couldn't have missed it. Signs advertising everything from newspapers to fuel to Australia Post Agency adorned the walls or stood at various angles around the footpath. She pulled up across the road in the shade of a group of large gum trees. A patchy lawn spread away from her towards the river.

An old lady stepped out of the doorway carrying a shopping bag. Savannah noticed a large IGA sign. Posters listing specials filled the windows. This place was also the local supermarket. A young lad carrying a box and another bag followed the woman. Savannah watched as he placed the items in the lady's car and opened her door.

Savannah was impressed. That kind of service was rarely seen in the city. It gave her a good feeling about Riverboat Point. She took a bag from her back seat and crossed the road. The shop was housed in an old building, part of a row of three. Just inside the door was a supermarket counter and a selection of fruit and veg. There was no sign of anyone. Once she entered she could see that the supermarket took up the space in all three of the old shops. Adjoining walls had been knocked out to form access.

Savannah turned back to the counter as footsteps echoed towards her along the wooden floor. A woman emerged around a row of shelves carrying a bucket of fresh flowers.

“Hello, can I help?” she asked.

“I just need some groceries,” Savannah said.

“Let me know if you can't find something you want. Otherwise help yourself. Trolleys and baskets over there.” She pointed past Savannah, gave her a good look up and down then bustled behind the counter to place the flowers beside a
Fresh Flowers
sign, her interest in Savannah short-lived.

Savannah took a basket. She wasn't planning on staying long. A few cleaning items and some food staples would get her by.

It took her a while to gather what she needed in the unfamiliar layout. She had to backtrack several times. She came across the lad she'd seen carrying the old lady's groceries. He was unpacking cans of cat food. He glanced her way then went on stacking.

Perhaps Jaxon should get a cat, Savannah thought. Then she had another idea. She turned back to the lad.

“Do you sell mouse traps?” she asked.

“Next aisle.” He pointed to the left. “Between the fishing supplies and the garden needs.” He spoke slowly and politely. “There are signs.”

“Thanks,” she said but he'd returned back to his task. She noticed him pause and then straighten a can and turn its label to the front.

She went on to the next aisle and passed the sign that said
Fishing Supplies
. When the lad had said signs he'd really meant it. These were not like signs that hang at the beginning of the row in a supermarket; they were printed and laminated and stuck above each section. Savannah looked along the aisle. She'd been so intent on finding her groceries she hadn't noticed them. There were signs everywhere.

She found the mouse traps with the mothballs, flyspray and snail bait under a sign that said
Vermin Eradication.
Just for a moment a bubbling feeling welled up inside her. She clenched her teeth and looked up and down the aisle. She couldn't remember the last time she'd giggled. It was a strange sensation. She put a mouse trap in her basket and reached for a second. Beside them on the shelf were packets of steel wool. Someone had got their cleaning products mixed up with their vermin eradication. She bit her lip to stifle another giggle.

A sudden memory of her mother came to mind. Savannah remembered her plugging holes in the skirtings of their house with steel wool – to keep out the mice. She added a packet to her overloaded basket and headed back to the counter.

She could hear voices chatting happily as she neared the front. Two people were ahead of her at the checkout. Savannah waited beside a pin board that was covered in flyers and notices. The board had been divided into columns and once again someone had made signs for each column. The
Entertainment
column advertised an upcoming darts competition. The
For Sale
column was a bit busier with a car and assorted furniture listed. The last column was labelled
Public Notices
. Savannah's sweeping gaze halted at the name
Jaxon Smith Electrical
. It stood out in big bold print. Below it was pinned a note:
Unavailable until further notice
. There was the name and number for another electrician but it was the ‘unavailable until further notice' that held Savannah's attention. She stepped closer and bent to look at the note as if an explanation might magically appear.

“Next, please.”

The shrill tone of the woman's voice made Savannah spin. She bumped her basket against the counter and several items slid to the floor. She reached down for them, gasped as pain shot up her leg, and straightened quickly.

The woman stared at her. Savannah gritted her teeth. Sometimes it caught her like that, the pain sudden and intense, reminding her she was no longer whole.

“Are you all right?” The woman made a small move towards her.

Then the lad was there gathering up her items. Before she could protest he had put her basket on the counter in his steady manner.

“Thank you,” Savannah said and stepped gingerly after him.

The pain was now a dull ache. She was used to that. It was the sudden sharp stabs that could still take her breath away even after all this time. Nerves still healing, reconnecting, the doctors said. Something she would have to live with. Easy for them to say. She managed fairly well but sleeping in the car last night hadn't done her body any good, or her nerves if she was honest.

“Do you have any bags?”

“Yes.”

Savannah glanced at the woman whose badge said her name was Faye.

Faye had started scanning her items. She paused and they both looked from Savannah's pile of items to the one bag she'd placed on the counter.

“Get the lady a box, Jamie,” Faye called.

Someone else stepped up to the counter. Faye became much more animated as she greeted the man she called Terry. He was an old bloke with a twinkle in his eye. He gave Savannah an interested look before Faye entered into a detailed conversation with him about the weather and the state of his vegetable garden.

Jamie returned with a box. In his slow, methodical way, he packed her items while she paid.

“Have a nice day,” Faye said, with barely a glance at Savannah once she'd handed over her money.

Jamie picked up the box and waited at the door. Savannah gave him a quick smile and went ahead of him to her car. She popped the boot. He slid the box in and stepped back.

“Have a nice day,” he said. His words followed the pattern and tone Faye had used – like a recording.

“Thank you,” Savannah said.

He nodded. She watched him walk back across the road, not sure what to make of her Riverboat Point shopping expedition.

Seeing Jaxon's sign had thrown her. Not being available until further notice was so indefinite and yet not the kind of thing you'd write if you were going away for a week. And according to Ethan, Jaxon had already been gone for that long. She pulled her phone from her bag and tried her brother's number again. She sighed as it went straight to his message bank. She jabbed the end button and tossed her phone back in her bag. She'd already left him several messages. No point in leaving another. There'd be plenty she'd say to his face when he finally turned up.

“What are you doing here?”

Ethan looked into the eyes of his older brother. Blake's face, prematurely weathered from a life of outdoor work, was pulled into a smile but his eyes showed his pain. Ethan had seen that look on other faces, set like masks determined not to allow the agony to the surface. Unless you were very clever, the eyes always told the true story. He pushed the memories away.

“Checking up on you, big bro,” Ethan retorted. He nodded at Blake's arm encased in bright white plaster. “Still can't ride a bike.”

They both grinned at the recollection of childhood days when Blake, always in the lead, often went a cropper off his bike. He'd broken a collarbone, been hospitalised with concussion and had too many cuts and bruises to recall.

Blake lifted his head. “Can you prop me up a bit? I hate lying flat.”

Ethan shoved another pillow under Blake's shoulders. He heard the sharp intake of breath but there was no other sound of complaint.

“You didn't bring a beer, did you?” Blake's voice came out in a rasp. “I've got cocky cage mouth.”

“That'd go down well with the painkillers. How about some water?”

Ethan held the glass to his lips. Blake took a sip and let his head fall back on the pillow.

“Damn!” he muttered. “I'll be out of here tomorrow.”

“Not according to the old man. You've smashed yourself up pretty good this time.”

“Mal rang you?”

“He was worried about you.”

“Must have been.”

They both lapsed into silence. Their father rarely spoke directly to Ethan. They had disagreed on many things for as long as Ethan could remember, but it was his joining the army that had nearly torn the family apart. Their parents were part of the anti-war movement during the early seventies. They had raised their sons to value democracy and freedom. Ethan did. He just looked at it from a different perspective. Blake understood that but Mal and Barb couldn't accept Ethan's choices. His call-up to Afghanistan had brought a slight reconciliation with his mother when she couldn't bear to let him go without hugs and kisses she hadn't bestowed for years. Mal was not there to say goodbye, nor did he welcome him home at the end of his final deployment.

Ethan walked to the window and looked out into the bright sunshine reflecting off the cars in the car park.

“I'm happy to help anytime,” he said.