CHAPTER 58
The week’s work was routine, but Kul was keeping a sharp eye on the e-mail inbox. At some point, we hoped to get a go/no go from Chad’s Sydney contacts, and that would mean a heavy-duty Real Business Meeting with both our water activity clients and Canning Van Man. and quite possibly with the camping shop Maz had been chatting up. In the meantime, I was still riding with a mentor, mainly Kul. He was quite clear that I knew my job inside out, but I still lacked a lot of experience in little things like navigating the city, both in terms of streets and of local culture.

“Besides all that, Mike, you haven’t been to enough of the local greasies to know which ones are okay for a cuppa and which ones you REALLY don’t want to eat at. Like Sheffield and curry houses. Never, ever, do a job at the place you like to eat, because you’ll end up seeing the kitchen, and that might not be a good idea. Not if you were planning on eating there in the future”

I remembered a particular restaurant in That Place, and could only agree. A solid fortnight of visiting places whose cuisine varied from the amazing to the abysmal followed, and I found myself wondering how such places kept going. Kul, of course, had his pet explanation.

“Notice where they are, those places? Near pubs, and especially student pubs. You like doner kebabs”

“Not especially”

“Bugger off; that was a statement, not a question, cause I’ve seen you eating them. Thing is, even when you’ve had a decent meal at the pub, and eight or nine bags of crisps, as soon as you get out into the fresh air, bang! Grease tank needs filling. Don’t know who said it first, but there are some things you can only eat if you’re pissed, but when you’re that pissed, you simply have to eat them. And that is how and when these places make their profits. Problem for us is that they don’t change the oil in their friers that often, so less to send Green Dream and the rest. Suppose that’s how they maintain their subtle flavour”

We got the word ten days after our return from Cowaramup, and it was a surprising answer. Our new friends from Sydney would be across in another ten days’ time, and they would not be flying but driving a camper van, as they wanted to be able to sell the trip with absolute confidence. Rod was utterly blasé about the plan.

“Got a van due to arrive over there in about three days. Couple of Eye Ties, flying home from Sydney. Usual problem. If these boys can service the van, it will let me see if they can tell their arse from their elbow. I’ll waive the hire fees, obviously, but they’ll have to sign the usual agreement so we’re insured. Let me know when you need the paperwork, and I’ll fiddle it about”

Kul was as smooth as ever.

“Just let us have it, Rod. Part of the service”

“That’d be good, mate! Now, Mike: had any thoughts on the bike I can sort the rego out if you want?”

I could never get used to that Australian abbreviation, and the odd spelling that want with it. ‘Registration’ was abbreviated to what sounded like ‘red Joe’. Vegetables were treated the same way, but where we wrote ‘veggies’, the Aussie equivalent was ‘vegies’. Yes, I understood the logic. No, I couldn’t get used to it.

That Saturday, Maz dropped me off at Kalamunda and then followed me home as I did my best not to drop the thing. My leathers were at the house in Sheffield, of course, so I had bought a new jacket, lid and gloves and made do with jeans and walking boots for the rest.

I had also bought two bloody solid locks.

We parked up at the house, Geeta sorting some space in the garage for the Beemer, and Maz murmured something about buying her own helmet. I froze.

As I had an arm around her, she picked up on my shiver, looked up into my eyes, and just said, “Oh”

A hug, and a whisper of “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t thinking”

I nodded, and hugged her back.

“Sorry, but it’s going to take a bit of work from me. Not you, Maz”

I was awake for a long time that night, Maz breathing softly beside me, several voices arguing in my mind while I remembered the feeling of that chunk of tyre smashing into me. Not again. I was so grateful that the morning brought Sunday, and not a working day, because I felt absolutely shit, and everybody quite obviously noticed. Being who they were, they simply did their best to take it in their stride, and we ended up, quite naturally, at the beach, where I fell asleep lying on my towel.

When I came to once again, there were no less than three parasols stuck into the sand beside me, keeping the worst of the sun off, Kul sitting by my head holding out a bottle of cold fizz.

“It worked, then”

“Nghwhat worked?”

“Opening a cold beer next to your head. Told the others it would wake you”

He handed me the bottle, which was plastic.

“Not actually beer, but sounds the same when you pop it. Not sleeping?”

“No, mate. Still sorting out a shitload of baggage”

“Well, make sure you involve Maz in the sorting. She’s still jumping at shadows, is Maz. Sees a work problem, sorts if. Sees one in private life, slaps herself for causing it. So once you’re awake, go and annoy her. Do it with a smile, though. You’re with her tomorrow, anyway, over to Rotto, because I got a text this morning, from Murdo. You’ve got a bit of a bimble to do, but on a schedule. There are a few restaurants who are expecting you, as well as a sort of posh campsite. Murdo said he was trying to arrange a single meeting at the caff by the jetty there, rather than you two having to pedal some ancient piece of crap around the place, but I would still wear casual stuff, Maz included”

I took a sip from what turned out to be lemonade after sitting up.

“When did this come in?”

“While you were getting born again, born to be wild. I don’t think that man Murdo ever stops. Seats are reserved for you tomorrow at noon. Do you get seasick?”

I shook my head as Kul patted my shoulder.

“Off and make her smile again, Mike, while I give these brollies back”

I just nodded, walked into the water and sneaked up on her, surfacing so as to splash her with as much water as I could. Sometimes, being childish is the only option.

She was quiet that night as we settled down, at least to start with, but she was fierce in her hugs.

“Mike?”

“Yes?”

“Can we please get this out of the way? I know what frightens you, and all I want to do is make it a non-issue. Sod it, Maryam! Sorry. Didn’t come out as I meant it. I mean, an issue that doesn’t divide us, not something that is of no importance. I used to use a scooter all the time as a girl, so I am used to riding, and it would be nice if I could, with you, but if it is too painful for you, then it can be a closed issue. I was going to say something about open wounds, but this is confused enough already. Am I making sense?”

I nodded against the top of her head, and she continued.

“Speaking of bikes, do they actually expect us to ride one to this meeting? Ronnie says a lot of the hire bikes there are real wrecks”

“Well, wear something loose and comfy”

“What about tight and comfy?”

“What about it is that I would like to be comfy too, and you on a bike saddle in tight trousers would rather prevent that”

“You don’t like seeing me in tight trousers, Mister M.B.R.?”

“You bloody well know I do, Miss M.B.R., and that’s the problem. If we are going to screw a decent profit from these people, I need to be undistracted”

“I think you meant ‘help them to achieve greater environmental responsibility in the course of their business’, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, late. Spoon with me?”

“Okay”

She faced away from me before wriggling back into my embrace with a sigh.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a rough-stuff bike, so, that stars in the bush thing… I could manage a tent…”

Once again, memories, but this time I pushed them back behind the sheltering presence of the woman in my arms. Sleep still came home late.

Maz drove us to Hillary’s the next morning, parking being arranged in the ferry company’s private yard. The boat was a chunky catamaran with a massive cabin and an open seating area at the rear. Our host crew member explained that some people preferred that as it gave them a chance to spot whales. I did spot a little smirk, though, so I pressed the point, and got a shrug.

“Ah, Mister Rhodes, some people aren’t the greatest sailors, so a bit of fresh air can help. We keep extra supplies of bags in this locker”

“Ah”

“Not quite. Usually more of an ‘Aaaaggghhhhhhh’ in my experience”

Maz shuddered, and our host pointed overhead to a small railed-off area.

“And some people bring their own bikes, which we stick up there. You’ll see later why me and the rest never bring our own, despite the ones there being a bit Lazarus”

Maz looked puzzled, so yet another grin.

“Back from the dead, Miss! In the Bible, there’s a bit where they are asked to open the grave, and they point out there’s going to be a right stink after all the time he’s been dead. That’s the hire bikes, ey?”

“They are that bad?”

“When I first moved over here I did the ferry and hire bike thing. Suspension seat post that sagged in time with the pedalling, and each time it rose back up, it did a quarter turn to the right and back. And the helmets, oh dear, ey? But the place is so lovely you forget all that. Anyway, backsides to seats. You prefer to sit out?”

I looked to Maz, and she nodded. Our host grinned.

“Knows his place already, then? I’ll sort yez a cuppa partway, if you want”

We settled back in the warmth of the sun as the paying crowd filed on, a couple of shiny ‘comfort bikes’ going up onto the railed area. A predictable series of announcements followed, and we began to edge away from the jetty.

Twenty minutes later…

The crossing was fast and remarkably smooth, but the boat moved up and down over quite a wide range as it met oceanic swells, and spray came in waves from behind us. Noises came from the cabin, as several people moved out for the fresher air, and the two bicycles glittered with drops of salty seaspray. I understood, just then, why those in the know accepted the delights of rotating seat posts.

Neither of us had any issues involving paper bags, and to my relief, and no doubt hers, there was a car awaiting us. We had our meeting. It was productive. We rode the ferry back, once again without needing a bag. But we never saw a quokka.