‘Good morning, dear.’
There was something about Edith’s usually cheery greeting that alerted Natasha. ‘Is something wrong, Auntie?’ She frowned and glanced round. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ Her father was usually up at the crack of dawn.
‘Oh dear, your father’s come down with the flu, dear. And to make matters even worse, he has gout in his big toe.’
‘Oh, no!’ On the very day they were planning to fly to Darwin! ‘How bad is he? Have you called the doctor?’ Sympathy for her father vied with dismay at what it meant. She’d planned this Kakadu trip so carefully, deliberately choosing this time of year—early May, the start of the dry season, when the grass would still be green and the flowers still blooming. To postpone it, even for a couple of weeks, would upset her carefully-made plans and put her entire working schedule out in the coming months.
Edith grimaced. ‘He wouldn’t let me. He said the doctor would only tell him to stay in bed, and he’s already in bed. Luckily he has tablets for his gout.’ She seemed to hesitate. ‘He demanded his mobile phone so that he could make some phone calls—the last thing he should be doing, the state he’s in.’ She sniffed her disapproval.
‘I’ll go and see him.’ Chewing on her lip, Natasha darted off.
She expected her father to be sitting up in bed, propped up on pillows, or in an armchair with the mobile phone clamped to his ear, but he was lying in bed huddled under the blankets, with only the silvery top of his head showing and a big cage-like mound at the foot of the bed protecting his gouty foot. Her heart sank.
‘Dad…’
He peeked up at her. ‘Sorry, love, I’m sick. Really sick.’ His voice was thin and wavery, his normally lively blue eyes half closed, as if it were an effort to keep them open. ‘But you’re not to worry, I’ve arranged everything. You’re still to catch the plane at nine.’
‘Oh, Dad, how can I go without you? I can’t go camping for two weeks in Kakadu Park on my own! And at this late stage there’s no one else I—’
‘Love, I’ve fixed it, I said,’ Charlie insisted weakly. ‘I’ve contacted a safari tour company—’
‘Dad, I’m not going on one of those organised tours—even if it’s in a four-wheel-drive with only a handful of people. I want to be able to go where I like, when I like, and take as long as I need to get the shots and the sketches I want, and do the painting I want.’
‘You’ll still be able to do all that, love. The tour boss himself is going to take you—personally. I’ve checked him out and he’s thoroughly reliable and highly regarded throughout the Top End. He’ll take you wherever you want to go—and he’ll see to all the food and help you put up your tent and lift any heavy gear for you and protect you from the crocodiles…’ A weak smile flickered.
‘Charlie—’
‘He’ll be waiting at Darwin airport to meet you, love, holding up a sign with your name on it. His name…now what was it? Cannon…something like that. He’ll be wearing an insignia on his shirt and hat in the shape of a magpie goose, he said, with the name Wild-Goose-Chase Tours woven into it.’
‘Wild-Goose-Chase Tours?’
‘Neat name, huh? Attention grabbing. I told him you were a gorgeous blonde and that you’d be wearing a T-shirt with Monet waterlilies front and back. So make sure you’re wearing it.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ She sighed. Sick as he was, Charlie appeared to have thought of everything. Luckily, her Monet shirt was clean. It was a favourite, and she’d already planned to take it with her. She would change into it after she’d finished her coffee. If she decided to go…
‘Dad, you might be better in a couple of days…’
‘I won’t…and don’t come near me! You don’t want to catch it.’ He waved her away with a feeble hand. ‘Even if this rotten gout gets better in a few days, the flu’s bound to develop into a shocking head cold, with an ear infection—it always does with me—and I won’t be able to fly for weeks. But don’t worry, I’ll be fine, love,’ he assured her hastily. ‘Edith will look after me.’
‘Dad—’
‘You don’t have to do a thing, love. I’ve already cancelled the four-wheel-drive we were planning to hire in Darwin. The tour company will provide one, as well as a tent and camping gear and all your food, etc. You just have to turn up. Now off you go and get ready.’
She knew he’d only get upset if she stood around arguing. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She gave him a rallying smile. Sick as he was, he’d tried his best to put things right for her. The least she could do was sound grateful. ‘I’ll take my mobile phone to Darwin with me so we can keep in touch.’
He grunted. ‘Don’t waste your time making calls back home. You’ll be out of range most of the time anyway. Besides, Edith says she’s taking my phone away.’ He sighed, a wavery sound. ‘Sorry, love…I’m so tired.’
‘Then go to sleep, Dad. And make sure you get Aunt Edith to call the doctor if you feel any worse.’ She gave her father a pat—carefully avoiding the area of his feet. ‘You take good care of yourself, Charlie. Get better soon.’
She couldn’t believe that she was agreeing to go, that her father was actually urging her to go—to go careering off into the Australian wilds with a complete stranger. But if Charlie was happy for his daughter to go off on a two-week camping tour with a tour operator neither of them had met personally, he must be confident that the man was absolutely trustworthy.
This Cannon character, being the boss, and presumably the owner of Wild-Good-Chase Tours, was probably a mature, older man, married most likely, and he should at least be dependable and well experienced in the bush.
Besides, she had to go…people were depending on her. If she didn’t come up with the paintings of Kakadu that she’d promised to produce by early spring, she might never be invited to exhibit in Sydney again! She’d be seen as unreliable, and her reputation in the art world would suffer.
She hurried back to the kitchen to grab a much needed cup of coffee.
As soon as she stepped out of the packed aircraft after the long flight north, the humid warmth in the air, the casual surroundings, and the people milling round the terminal in shorts and skimpy tops, confirmed that she was in Darwin. This was a city where things happened at a slower, easier pace, where people relaxed and enjoyed life.
Where most people relaxed, that was. Unless they were waiting to meet a complete stranger. A stranger who was going to be her close companion for the next two weeks—not in a civilised city with other people around, but alone in the bush, exploring Australia’s largest, wildest and most exciting national park.
She gulped hard, and looked around for a man carrying a sign with her name on it. She could only see two people carrying signs, an elderly man and a young woman, and neither of their signs said Natasha Beale. And they weren’t wearing insignias bearing the name Wild-Goose-Chase Tours.
She wasn’t sure whether to wait, or go ahead and pick up her luggage. Maybe she’d find him there. She could always call the tour company. As the boss he—
Her eyes widened. Her heart crashed against
