Read Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Page 33

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  It was still raining quite heavily as we started the next ferry run, so we rigged the blue canvas awning over the passenger seats. Way out in the middle of the river we saw a woman stopped in a motorboat and waving for help. She looked a bit wet. Dad slowed down alongside her. It was a rental boat from the marina. “What’s the problem?” dad asked. “The motor’s stopped and I can’t get it started again.” “Jump in Tim and take a look, we’ll leave you to it. Run the lady back to the marina afterwards.” I fetched my toolbox. Jack held the motorboat steady with the boathook while I stepped in, then Annabelle pulled away.

  “Hi, I’m Tim” I said. “I’m Eleanor. Thanks for helping. Do you think you can fix the motor?” “Probably.” “I like your confidence.” I took a look at the engine. It was a common type of four stroke that I’d worked on before. I did all the usual quick checks; spark plug, carburetor and so on, but I couldn’t see anything wrong. Then I put a dipstick in the fuel tank; it was empty. “You’ve run out of fuel,” I said, “did you rent this boat this morning?” “No, yesterday.” “Did you do much running around yesterday?” “Yes, quite a lot.” “Well that’s it, you should have taken a spare can of petrol with you to refill the tank when you ran out.” “So what do we do now?” “Don’t worry, Annabelle will be back this way in about half an hour. She can give us a tow back to the wharf.”

  We sat there in the middle of the river in the rain, the boat rocking gently in the chop. “Gosh you’re getting wet Tim. Hold on, I’ve got a plastic sheet in my backpack.” She pulled out the sheet and we spread it over our heads, sitting close together on the thwart. Usually I’m too embarrassed to look at a girl but this time I could steal a look at Eleanor from close up while she was peering at the riverbank through her binoculars. I guessed she was in her early twenties, tan spray jacket, slacks and flat leather shoes. Her hair was brown and wavy, her glasses were rimless, and she had very little makeup. Fine rain drifted down, muffling the usual sounds of the river. In the distance a dog howled sadly as if his heart was broken. It felt very cosy under the sheet. I could smell her perfume. She turned to me and smiled. “Is that your father driving Annabelle?" "Yes, he’s the skipper. What are you doing out here in a boat on your own?" "Taking photographs of birds." "Birds? Do you study them?" “Sort of. I did a B.Sc. in zoology, but I had trouble finding a job so I thought I’d try taking photos for books and calendars, and film for wildlife programs on TV. I’ve done alright with animals, but birds are a bit new to me.” I saw she had several camera bags in the boat. “Are you interested in all birds?” “I’ve taken a lot of photos of birds along the river, look, I’ve just taken one of a pale yellow robin.” I glanced at the picture on her camera screen. “That’s not a pale yellow robin it’s an eastern yellow robin. They’re fairly common around here, but the pale yellows don’t come this far south. Pale yellows are smaller than eastern yellows, and more of a pale lemon colour.” “Oh, I see, I didn’t know that.”

  We went on chatting about the birds along the river; then we got on to fish and the effects of the seasons and the tides, and I didn’t feel stupid talking about these things. In no time I saw Annabelle coming back, and I stood up and waved to dad. He stopped alongside. “Can’t you fix it?” he asked. “Run out of petrol. Can you give us a tow?” Jack passed me the end of a towline, I dropped a rolling hitch over the stem, and dad headed for the harbour. We tied up at the wharf and Eleanor walked round to the marina for a can of petrol. Jack looked at me with a curious look on his face. “I saw you two all snug out there under the sheet. What a girlfriend she’d make! Did you have your arm round her?” “Forget it Jack,” I said, “she’s much too intelligent for either of us.” When Eleanor came back I refilled the petrol tank on her boat and started the engine. “Thanks Tim, I think I learned more from you in half an hour than from hours of reading books.” I felt very proud of myself, but Jack had to get his piece in. “If you like you can hire Tim as a guide, only thirty bucks an hour. Pay me, I’m his booking agent.” I got out my motorbike and headed home for a dry shirt.