Part of him felt he should offer her something more; allow her to stay on with him in Katherine until the end of the year, she could always go to fashion college next year. Maybe they could try the living together thing for six months; he would come back to town for a night or two every week when he could. Sometimes he could bring her out with him.
He knew this offer would make her deliriously happy, it was what she wanted, and he would have liked to make her more fully happy. But he found himself unable to compromise with this offer; it seemed that he would be giving a part of himself unwillingly to go so far with her. It felt untrue to offer it unless he was more sure it was what he wanted.
So no offer was made and he could feel a dark kernel of bitterness continue to grow inside her. He hoped he could make it up to her with a night of pleasure together at this waterhole in the wilderness, then two more nights, living it up in civilisation before they went their separate ways. He hoped that once she was on board the bus to Darwin, followed by the flight to Sydney, she would start looking forward to her future life and what she felt as the pain of his rejection would ease.
They ate supper by the waterhole and took pleasure in the animals and sounds of the night that were gathered around.
Mark had seen pig tracks in the mud at the edge of the billabong last night. He told Josie he wanted to go off in the dawn and try and track one down, suggesting that she should enjoy an extra hour of sleep.
She agreed, it seemed a bit too readily, but then she did like being in bed, even without him. They made love and slept. Later in the night he woke and saw her looking at him, her eyes dark and hurt.
He asked her what it was?
She said. “Who is Belle, last night when you were making love to me a couple times it seemed like you whispered her name. Then you kept saying her name in your dreams, you have been tossing and turning in dreams for the last half hour, and you have kept saying her name over and over again. Is she the reason you don’t want to stay with me? Is she the person you really love, but pretend does not exist?”
Mark turned away, he could not bear to hear Belle’s name spoken, the wound was covered in six months of scarring, but it was still too raw. A peculiar malice resonated in the way Josie spoke that name. It tore away the thinly healed scab, opening a raw bleeding place below.
He wished Josie would stop but she was insistent. “Tell me who Belle is, or I will find out some other way.”
Mark could feel a slow rage burning and building. He would not cop this from anyone. He turned to her, anger in his eyes,
“Josie, for once in your life, shut the fuck up. Don’t ever mention that name again, it has nothing to do with you and it never will.” With that he turned his back on her, pulled the pillow over his head and willed himself to empty all from his mind.
He had a vague awareness that Josie was gone from his bed, he was glad. What happened felt like she was trying to prise open a place in his heart that belonged to another. He would not share these memories with anyone. He knew his words had hurt her but did not care, when she spoke the name Belle with malice, his mind turned it back on her seven fold.
As he drifted back towards sleep he felt that his body was now one of the crocodiles that consumed his beloved, at one in spirit with her and them. He and they would protect their own; there was no space for other.
His reason tried to say that here was madness, but his crocodile mind would not listen and did not care.
Mark awoke with the first glimmers of dawn, he would hunt a pig and feed it to his crocodile spirit brothers; they were to calling him from the billabong nearby, seeking sustenance from him.
Josie was still not in his bed, he rose to look for her, now feeling some shame at his cruelty to her in the night. In this morning light he did not really want to hurt her, but he could still feel the anger of the night sitting just beneath his skin.
He found her asleep in his Toyota cabin, clad only in T shirt and sprawled out across the front seats. She looked so young and vulnerable. He felt tenderness for her, not his love for Belle, but affection for another damaged soul, not so unlike his own. He felt a desire to run his fingers through her hair and reassure her, to rebuild affection between them. But the anger was still there too and it stopped him.
Instead he took his gun from the back, a 223, and a pack of bullets and went pig hunting. He followed fresh tracks from the water out into scrubby wasteland, then down into another dried out swampy place where the pigs had been rooting for tubers. They had gone far but he followed their trail, blocking out the memories of the night and focusing only on the hunt, sharing his soul with hungry crocodile spirits.
By the time he returned, carrying a pig large enough to make his shoulders ache, after the miles he had walked with it, he found the camp deserted. He called out Josie’s name, nothing.
He carried the pig to the billabong, there was no sign of a crocodile, yet his own crocodile spirit was alive to a presence. His lay his gift at the water edge, it would come when ready to carry it away.
Now he must find Josie, they needed to pack up and drive on to Kununurra. He called again loudly, no sound returned. He checked his swag; it was as he had left it last night, undisturbed by her hands.
The doors of the car were closed but he could see she was no longer inside. He decided to look in more closely, going first to her side. The small overnight bag which had rested at her feet when they travelled, holding her few things was not there. He looked to his seat. There was a sheet of paper on it. It had writing which looked like hers, it certainly was not his. Perhaps it was a message for him.
Mark,
You are a rotten bastard. I know your dirty secret. I found passports of Belle and Elin, and read your diary, how you shot Belle. No wonder you did not want me to know. I bet you killed the other girl too.
I have done plenty of bad things but I don’t kill people.
Yesterday I would have done anything for you.
Today I can’t wait to get even.
I found a big pile of jewels which I am sure are worth lots.
So rather than take the help you offered I will just help myself.
If you try to mess with me I will send your diary to the police to see what they make of it.
Enjoy the rest of your miserable life before the police come.
I hope you go to jail for a very long time.
Then we will see who is laughing.
J