Riverboat Point (6 page)

She clicked on the link to his bank account. Perhaps something there might give her a clue about what he was up to. A few minutes later she sat back in the chair, disappointed. This account was with a different bank from the one that held Jaxon's mortgage. All the transactions appeared to be for the houseboat business. She could see where people had transferred money into it for deposits; the latest being the name of the woman who'd rung that afternoon. The black diary had her booking recorded in it.

Savannah opened the other book that was a kind of ledger. In it were the names of the houseboats, the dates, the name of the person booking and their personal details. She could see where she was supposed to record the $600 deposit paid. It was for the houseboat
Tawarri
.

Savannah paused, pen in hand.
Tawarri
had been the name of their family home. The engraved brass sign from her mother's family farm was fitted to the front wall of their home in Adelaide. She assumed the sign had still been on the house when it was sold. The other three boats were named
Our Destiny
,
Riverboat
and
River Magic
. It had never entered her mind that Jaxon might be sentimental about the name. He'd been a baby when the property was sold.

She entered the amount in the ledger then turned back to the instruction page and followed his steps to create an electronic receipt. She clicked on the desktop link to his email account. She hoped she might find a clue to his whereabouts there but once again when she logged in she could see the emails were all about hiring houseboats. Her enthusiasm ebbed away. The address was obviously just for the houseboat business, there was nothing personal she could see at a quick glance. She emailed the receipt to the address he'd recorded and ticked it off in the receipt column. Jaxon's processes were clear and easy to follow. She was surprised and just a little impressed. They had good bookkeeping skills in common.

She logged off the computer and closed the books. At least she was used to office work. She frowned as she thought about her last job working in a small real estate office. In hindsight it hadn't been a good idea to call the boss a dickhead to his face – even if it was accurate. Her frown turned to a smile. The look on his face had been worth it.

The result was there was no longer any job requiring her presence in Adelaide. That had become a bit of a pattern. It was six years since the car accident and she'd spent most of it in survival and recovery mode. She'd turned away from the fitness instructing she'd loved before the accident and taken whatever she could get that had nothing to do with gyms.

Her first job had been doing the books for a guy with a mowing round. She wasn't up to long hours at that stage. Turned out neither was he. He wasn't a hard worker. He went bust. But by then she was a lot stronger. Her next job was working the counter in a bakery. The other employees were silly young things with nothing to talk about but boys and what colour they were going to dye their hair on the weekend. She'd eventually become fed up with them and given them a mouthful – they'd called her a bitch. The boss had said they were overstaffed and as the last one in she was the first one out. There'd been a couple more short-term jobs and then office help in the real estate agency. Once again her inability to tolerate fools and her sharp tongue had got her into trouble.

She had no pets and what garden she did have could survive at this time of the year without water. No close friends would be wondering where she was. The block of flats on one side of her house meant she never knew her neighbours. Only old Mr Thomas on the other side might wonder if she didn't appear. She'd better ring him and let him know she'd be gone for a while. He would take the junk mail out of her letterbox.

She sat back and pulled the blanket close around her. Gradually she became aware of the silence. Ethan's music had stopped at last. She jumped at a loud clack from the pantry – a mouse trap.

The sound of an approaching vehicle and yapping dogs drew Ethan out from under the truck. He was on his feet and wiping his greasy hands on a rag by the time the ute pulled up next to him. He dropped the rag. The two dogs tied to the ute's tray strained towards him, barking excitedly. He patted them both and ruffled their heads before turning his attention to their master.

“Mal.” Ethan nodded at his father as he came around the back of the ute.

“How's it going here?”

“Not too bad.”

“Blake give you a list?”

“Yep.” Ethan patted his shirt pocket.

One of the dogs gave a small whine. Ethan looked at the pair of them flicking their watch from him to his father.

“Inconvenient time for Blake to have an accident,” Mal said, peering under the open bonnet of the old truck. His long hair, almost grey now, pulled back in his customary ponytail, hung out from under his battered hat.

“I guess so.”

“The crops are looking the best I've seen in a few years. If this warm weather keeps up we might have to bring everything forward.”

Ethan remained silent. Farming was such a fickle business; wonderful one day, terrible the next. He much preferred working on engines. Things could go wrong with them but they made sense to him. The weather was too unpredictable.

“Much on the list?”

Ethan thought about the things Blake had asked him to do. “I haven't got to the harvester yet but I've changed the oil in all the engines, there's a tyre needs patching and I've replaced a couple of hoses.”

“You've been busy.”

Ethan looked at his father but Mal had already turned away, making a show of inspecting the truck's tyres.

“Gypsy didn't need much work,” Ethan said following a few steps behind.

“Blake keeps it in good shape.” Mal kicked the front tyre with the toe of his boot. “They made them simpler back then.”

“She's slow to start, almost misses a beat then she purrs like a kitten.”

“No.” Mal ran his hand over the rusting front mudguard. “More like an old lioness.”

They really only kept the old truck to shift field bins from one paddock to another but it had sentimental value as well. When Blake and Ethan were young, Mal and Barb would load it up with camping gear after harvest. They'd drive across country a couple of hours to a beach on Yorke Peninsula where they'd spend two glorious weeks, swimming, crabbing, fishing and living under canvas. Blake had called it their gypsy caravan and the name had stuck. As they got older the two of them had learnt to drive it. Helping his father tinker under the old truck's bonnet was probably where Ethan developed his interest in engines.

“What are you smiling about?”

Mal's question brought him back. Ethan turned to look into his father's eyes. There was a softness in his face Ethan hadn't seen for a long time. Was he remembering those good times too?

“It's a wonder it still goes after what we put it through.”

Mal slapped the door of the truck. “They were built to last back then.”

They were both silent.

One of the dogs gave a short bark.

Mal stepped back. “Rust'll get her eventually,” he said sharply. “Like a cancer, it eats away.”

He strode back to the ute.

“Blake's coming out of hospital tomorrow,” he said when he reached the driver's door. “He's busted his arm pretty badly and the burn on his leg was bad. He'll be staying with us for a bit.”

“I'll keep an eye on things here.”

Mal gave a sharp nod. “Don't forget to put your hours in.”

Ethan opened his mouth then closed it again.

Mal was already climbing into the cab.

Ethan turned away as the dust from the moving vehicle swirled around him. “Nice talking to you, Dad.” He tapped his hand on the side of the truck. “Where were we, Gypsy?”

By the time he reached home the cloudy sky was orange and pink and the trees across the river were throwing black shadows over the water. Jasper was pleased to see him. Ethan only locked him up if he was going to be away all day. The enclosure took up most of the space under the house and was kitted out with everything the dog needed.

“Come on, mate,” Ethan said as he opened the gate.

He grasped the dog either side of its face and gave it a playful tussle.

“Let me check on the curry and we'll go for a quick walk.”

Ethan could smell the curry before he opened the door. The delicious aroma from the slow cooker made his mouth water. At least tonight he'd be able to eat at a decent hour. He'd put in three full days' work at the farm since he'd left Blake in the hospital. The first two nights he'd been late home and it had taken a while to prepare his meal. He'd dozed in the chair and then he'd been restless, unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Determined to break that pattern and be more organised, he'd set the curry going before he left this morning.

He turned the cooker off then filled a glass with water and drank it down in a few gulps. Even though the outside temperature was still warm he picked up his jumper. Once the sun went down the night would quickly turn cold. Just as he stepped out onto his back landing Jasper began to bark in the tone that meant visitors.

“Damn,” Ethan muttered.

He looked down the stairs to Jasper who was facing the side fence. Ethan sighed. Not visitors, he was guessing it was Savannah. His back steps were screened from Jaxon's shack by the little garden shed on Jaxon's side of the fence. The fence was only chicken wire. There'd been no need for anything permanent. It was just to mark the boundary for the dog.

“Jasper, sit,” Ethan commanded as he went down the stairs. Once his head was lower than floor level he could see her outline in the fading light. She was standing back from the fence, no doubt wary of Jasper. There was no longer a jungle of weeds on her side. He hadn't even noticed when he'd come home. She must have had the mower out.

“You've been busy,” he said as he reached ground level. “You managed to start Jaxon's archaic mower.”

“It took a while but I got it going.”

Was that pride in her tone? It was hard to see her face in the gloomy last light of the day.

“I was just taking Jasper for a walk.”

“I realise you're busy but I don't know when best to catch you,” she said quickly.

“Do you need something?”

“No … well, yes.”

She took a step closer to the fence. Jasper stood up and she hesitated.

“Sit,” Ethan said. “He won't hurt you. He's a big teddy bear.”

Savannah glanced down at the dog. “I'm not an animal person.”

Ethan patted the top of Jasper's head. Surprise, surprise, he thought. Out loud he said, “Drop.”

Jasper immediately sank to his belly.

“You need my help?” Ethan asked.

“Yes.” Savannah stepped a little closer.

Ethan could see her gaze flick between him and Jasper. The dog remained still.

“It seems Jaxon's gone for a while,” she said, “and he's left me to take care of his houseboat business.”

“I got that impression.”

She stepped right up to the fence, her face suddenly lit by the sensor light at the corner of his house. She looked apprehensive. Surely not still about the dog? Jasper hadn't moved.

“That's where I need your help,” she said.

“Something wrong with one of the engines?”

“No …” She put her hands to her hips. “I don't know.”

Ethan frowned. Now he was confused. “You don't know?”

“Damn it.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don't know anything about houseboats. I don't know anything about any kind of boat, full stop.”

Ethan's frown deepened. “Jaxon said you'd take care of the houseboats.”

“I can do the paperwork but as far as actually doing things on the boats.” She let out a sharp rush of breath. “I've read through the instructions he left me several times and I may as well be reading another language for all the help they are.” She shook her head. “Jaxon can be so unreliable. I don't know what he was thinking.”

“Neither do I, I'm afraid,” Ethan replied. That was true enough. Jaxon had said he'd be gone for several weeks but Ethan had never thought of him as unreliable. He'd assumed Jaxon had called on his sister because she could manage in his absence and she had the necessary qualifications. Jaxon had wanted her to take a break from some issues she had in the city. Ethan could understand she wouldn't want to tinker with motors. That wasn't for everyone but … He leaned closer. “You're saying you've never driven a houseboat and you know nothing about them?”

“Nothing. Zero.” She waved her hands back and forth one over the top of the other. “Zilch.”

“You don't have a ticket?”

Lines wrinkled across her forehead. “A ticket for what?”

“You have to have one to show people how to do turnarounds.”

“Turnarounds?”

The puzzlement on her face told him everything. Ethan didn't like the comings and goings of people and boats so close to his little patch of river, but he hadn't imagined it would end like this. Jaxon had made a major stuff-up.

“Did your brother leave a customer list? You'll have to ring and cancel.”

“Trust me, I'd like nothing better than to pack up and go home but … I don't have a choice.”

“I'm not sure what you want me to do.”

She took a deep breath. The harsh light highlighted a scar on her forehead just below her hairline he hadn't noticed before.

“I don't know where to start. Jaxon's left instructions about fuel, sewerage tanks, steering, mooring, cleaning – I think that's the only thing I understand.”

“So you want me to …?” Ethan shrugged his shoulders and Jasper stood up. It was dark now and there was no moon, too late for a walk tonight.