Simon checked his stuffed overnight bag. He was travelling light and would buy items, such as clothes as they became necessary. The plane was due to depart from the small outback airport in an hour, and after another glance at his wrist watch he decided he had little time to spare.
He reckoned the track from the house to the main road should be passable. The sun and the breezes would have dried it although there would be patches he’d have to negotiate with care.
His old Ford would be left locked at the airport. The airport caretaker, to whom he’d telephoned, had assured him it would still be there when he returned.
The homestead door was half closed behind him when the phone rang. Or it would have been called ringing on the old phones; the noise these new ones made was not ‘ringing.’
He dropped the overnight bag onto the weathered wooden veranda floor before stepping back through the doorway. To where the telephone was perched on a rickety table of so light a construction, that Simon wondered if the ringing might one day cause it to collapse.
Out of habit he held the corner of the table to steady it while he picked up the hand piece.
“Hello, Simon here.”
“Simon. How are you going, you old pirate?” Simon’s life stopped for a second as he recognized the voice.
“Sarah? Sarah is that you? How are you? Where are you?”
“Come on Simon, no need to sound so surprised.” Simon didn’t have to try to sound surprised, he was overcome. Typical of Sarah though, out of the blue with no warning. He climbed back on track, and sat on the chair beside the phone.
“Sorry. I... you caught me off balance. Where are you?” Her gentle, but straight forward voice always had a place in his ear.
It did again.
“I’m in Brisbane, just flew in from New Guinea. I went scuba diving for a month. I’m ringing from the airport.” Simon was still lost for words.
“I’m guessing by the area code of this phone number that you’re back on the Darling. Will you be there long?”
Simon explained his estimations.
“What are your plans?” He asked.
“Well I promised Mum I would spend some time with her, after that I don’t know.” She paused a moment and then said, “Simon, I would like to spend some time with you. Can I come down there?”
Simon almost laughed with delight. “Sarah, do I have to say please?”
Her laughter floated down the phone line to him.
“I’ll stay with Mum about a week and then catch a plane to Sydney. After that, I guess I’ll find a bus or train or something up to good old Bourke.”
Simon looked at his watch. He had to get moving.
“Listen, I need to go. You’ve just caught me walking out the door to fly to Sydney. I’m not sure how long I’ll be down there, but I will ring you when I’m about to return.”
He had her mother’s phone number. Sarah had obviously been in contact with her as she had this phone number. He’d left it with her some months earlier when he’d been in Brisbane to organize ‘der boats’ refit
Sarah had been in Canada at the time taking part in the World hang gliding championships. They would have a lot to talk about.
“It’s been a long time. I’ve looked forward to seeing you again.”
“I’ve missed you too Simon. More than you know. I’ll see you in a week or so, take care.”
He put the phone down and looked again at his watch as he rushed out to where his overnight bag lay. After closing the door firmly behind him he strode to the wide wooden staircase. Its worn and cracked timbers reminded him to tread carefully as he stepped down.
As he drove away from the old farm house he found the concentration necessary for the negotiation of muddy spots was a little impaired. He had to at times, force thoughts of Sarah from his mind in order to focus on the tricky and in parts slippery bush track.
It was during the drive it suddenly dawned on him that for the first time in days he’d forgotten all about Africa.
Simon had bought a one-way ticket to Sydney. He hated the thought of going there, but he assured himself the days would pass quickly as there was much to do.
Organizing the African’s paperwork would most certainly occupy his mind and his time.
The fact he liked flying made it easier, although as the aircraft lifted him into space his thoughts were still with Sarah.
He remembered the time they’d canoed down the Darling River from Bourke to Louth during a flood. The river had been flowing at a flood level of eleven metres and it carried them swiftly.
Two hundred and fifty kilometres of sun filled days in cool winter months, with nights spent by big open fires under clear star studded skies. She had proved to be as good in a crisis as any man, not slack when the work was to be done and practical in her method.
Simon loved her, although he didn’t ever tell her so. She was a freedom child and like the wind; she would stay for a while, then blow off in another direction and onto a new adventure. He understood this, because she was as he was.
He looked out the window and down at the airport. Its windsock appeared to have male menopause as it drooped toward the galvanized burr that covered the red sandy ground.
Some moments later he looked down at the town where corrugated iron roofed buildings reflected varying shades. From grey through to silver amongst an oasis green of gardens and tree lined streets. He wondered momentarily about the people there and everywhere in this great country.
The Australian lifestyle would be like an elusive precious gem to millions of people in strife torn countries around the world. A lifestyle that Simon felt was taken for granted by many the people who lived here.
The thought stayed with him until the township disappeared from his windows field of view. Then feeling relaxed in the warmth, he thought again of Sarah until finally, as if lulled by the steady drone of the aircrafts engines, he slept.
He awoke as the plane was about to touch down at Mascot airport, and after collecting his bag he took a taxi into the city. He didn’t feel like talking, but he had to tell the taxi driver the hotels address a few times.
Simon hoped the man’s driving was better than his English, and found out as they went along that it was a debatable point.
The hotel room was like a hotel room, a small fridge, heaps of towels and a carpet that showed signs of wear in the doorway.
Room service brought food and copies of the cities phone books. He showered and then sat down to scan each copy, making a list of the addresses he would visit the following day. It took shape in the hour before his nodding head signaled it was time to sleep, and he took to his bed knowing the next day was shaping up to be long, and probably interesting.