Lost Girls (34 page)

Now or
never,
she thought, giving all her concentration to holding
steady while she squeezed the trigger. The huge blast reverberated
from in front of her. A split second later the second blast came
from her side.

When her senses
returned she looked to where the goats were. The front billy was
resting on its chest, nose in the water, having fallen where it
stood. Her target had not moved; perhaps its head had come up.

The other goats
had jumped in alarm, as if to flee, looking around for the source
of the sound. As they searched for danger a second crack sounded
from her side. The second juvenile goat slumped to the ground.

Cathy kept
watching as a slow second passed. Now her own target crumpled at
the knees to an ungainly sitting position, on its chest with its
head resting on the ground. The remaining goats rushed away across
the hillside.

Mark came
across, removed the bullets from her rifle and handed it to her,
breach open. His own was already similarly disarmed. He led the way
across the open ground to the pool below.

Cathy looked in
amazement at her goat as she approached. It seemed quite beautiful,
brown skin with mottled white patches. It looked startled in death,
eyes wide, as if caught by surprise as it sat there.

Mark pointed to
the entry hold where her bullet had struck, two inches higher and
three inches behind where she had aimed.

“That was a
good shot. It has taken out the major blood vessels at the back of
the heart with death in seconds from massive blood loss,” he
said.

He paused and
continued “I don’t think it felt anything,” seeming to sense her
concern that it had not suffered. “The bullet goes so fast it would
have been through it before it knew. With that damage there would
be no blood to its brain and no awareness from then on.”

She felt relief
it was done without suffering, but most she felt great exultation,
the successful hunter had made her first kill; this satisfaction of
a primal instinct washed over her.

She watched as
Mark quickly eviscerated the bodies and removed heads and feet,
then found two poles, each about two metres long. He asked Cathy if
she felt she could help him carry them back. He explained they
would need to do it I stages, first to the top of the hill, where
they would have a big rest before carrying them down the other side
to the car. This first bit to the top of the hill would be hardest,
lifting the weight. They would try to do it in one go but he could
always come back a second time if needed.

Mark estimated
the dressed weight of the three goats combined was 80 to 90 kilos.
He said he thought they could manage if he arranged the weight so
that he took about two thirds and she took about a third. He would
go at the back as they went up the hill, using his strength to push
them both forward as they climbed.

Cathy was
unsure if she was strong enough but would do her best.

So the goats
were tied to the two poles, the smaller two to one side and the big
one on the other side to give balance. The weight was towards the
back. Mark got Cathy to stand at the front. He lifted the poles on
her shoulders, picked up his heavy ends and rested them on his
shoulders.

“OK, off we go,
nice and steady, watching where you step. Don’t be scared to drop
them if you lose your balance or they get too heavy.”

It was hard
work but manageable. As the angle of the hill increased she could
feel the weight easing as more load transferred to the back, but
now she had to lift herself both herself and the poles. She could
feel Mark’s steady steps continually pushing her forward. She kept
stepping ahead, a foot at a time, her legs straining to lift with
every step.

After five
minutes Mark called a halt saying they were past half way to the
top. They sat side by side on a rock and got their breath back.
Considering he had been lifting most of the weight Mark seemed in
good shape, breathing hard but otherwise showing little sign of
strain. After his breathing returned to normal he did a couple
stretches before they pushed on. The next stage was much harder and
soon her legs were screaming, and now she could hear Mark grunting
with the effort of each step as he walked behind her. They did just
over half before Mark called another rest. The crest of the hill
was in sight but the steepest part lay in front. He separated the
poles and they came up the last leg carrying one pole at a time.
Finally all three goats were at the top.

They both
sprawled out on the ground sucking in air until their breathing
slowed and their legs regained strength.

After a few
more minutes Mark stood up and began searching the ground, soon
finding a particular rock and picking it up.

Cathy asked
what it was.

He showed her
that this rock had a fossil in its centre, a perfectly formed snail
outline. He told her it had been made hundreds of millions of years
ago when this land lay at the bottom of a shallow sea, now having
been thrust up far into the sky.

It was a time
so distant that it lay beyond her comprehension. She held the rock
herself and traced the outline with her finger, feeling as if this
was a time machine drawing her back into an incredibly ancient past
before even dinosaurs walked. She hunted around amongst the other
rocks, now looked at each fractured face carefully and sure enough
within a minute she had found another, similar but different,
another ancient creature of the sea, this one an oval shape, with
stripes running across the middle, this one Mark called a
trilobite. Almost reverently she put it down again. Now she looked
at the land below her feet with new understanding of its antiquity
and history and in a small way began to share the passion for it
that permeated Mark.

Mark hunted
around some more and found fragments of aboriginal flint chippings,
showing these to her as he told her they were made by the
aboriginals in the process of making a stone tool like a knife or
spear head, which they would have used for hunting.

Now she had a
second picture in her minds. She imagined these people of millennia
past sitting here on this hilltop surveying the view as they
prepared their tools and planned their hunts. She wondered if they
had also used the creek as an ambush point. She asked Mark.

“Almost
certainly,” he said, “they are such skilful hunters, I have seen a
black man from this country stalk a kangaroos so close that he
reached out and caught its tail without the need for a spear or
stone.

“So they would
have used the creek and the water pools as we did today, but they
could also catch animals by stalking across ground so open there
seems nowhere to hide.”

Now they took a
drink and a snack bar from their packs before heading down the
other side. The view was still marvellous but the magic of the
early morning light was gone, along with the animals, now only seen
as distant dots of far hillsides.

The walk back
to the car seemed easy after the climb. They had a trail to follow
and Mark was at the front taking most of the weight while she
walked easily behind supporting her end and enjoying the view. The
drive back was uneventful and they had a restful afternoon at the
camp. Cathy went for a walk by herself along the creek, while Mark
stayed in his room.

They ate an
early dinner in the bar and retired early, both tired. Over dinner
Mark had said he wanted to be away early again the next morning, to
drive on to Coober Pedy, where they had a dinner date. He told her
of a phone call to there this afternoon to tell of his hunting
success, and that he would bring a promised goat. He said the man
asked if he could be there by early afternoon, they were planning a
big family celebration the next night and the big billy goat would
make a perfect centrepiece for a traditional Greek feast. So,
despite his previous plans for another day of sightseeing, now they
needed to go early and directly to this place. He promised the
dinner would make it worthwhile.

They rose and
left at five. This morning the sunset was behind them unseen as
they drove southwest for two hours stopping for a quick breakfast
at Port Augusta. After that it was many long and featureless hours
of bitumen driving, heading north on the main road to Alice
Springs, the Stuart Highway. They arrived at their destination, as
planned, in the early afternoon.

Coober Pedy was
a strange and dusty town, a hot-potch of buildings taking all
shapes and styles. Its central feature was the innumerable shops
selling opals.

They pulled
outside a big gaudy house, obviously owned by a prosperous
inhabitant. It rose above its neighbours and boasted one of the few
flower gardens in sight at the front. Mark tooted the horn. A burly
man, thick set with dark hair turning to grey, came out.

Mark called out
“Nikko, I have your goat as promised, in good time for the feast
tonight.

“Marco,” the
man exclaimed, “You have come most fast. I told my Athena you would
come soon; she said not till later, too far to drive so quick from
the goat mountains; mountains like our Greece.”

They were shown
inside and given large tumblers of a sweet green iced drink which
tasted faintly of limes and lemons and green herbs. It was
refreshing after the heat of the day. They were only part finished
when there followed retsina, ouzo and a selection of bread and
dips.

Athena served
them; she was a small woman with a mass of jet black hair. She
looked several years younger than her husband, with a ready smile,
saying, “Marco, who is your friend, you must introduce us, most
impolite not to. I have fixed your regular room for tonight, the
big room with the balcony you like at the top of the house. I will
show Catherine around while you men talk.”

As Cathy
followed her up the stairs Athena explained that tonight was an
engagement party for their daughter Cassandra, Cassie as most
people called her. She and her fiancée, Stefan, went to Adelaide
shopping for a ring, yesterday. They were due back in town late
this afternoon in time for the celebration.

It turned out
that Nikko was a prosperous opal and gem trader who owned a busy
shop in the town, buying from miners and selling both wholesale to
other jewellers and to the town’s many visitors.

Over the years
they had prospered in this place. Now her daughter was marrying
into another local Greek family, also in the opal business.

Athena’s
stories rattled out. “You would think that with so many stones in
Nikko’s business there would be one to suit my daughter, one that
could be made into a ring. But no, she wants a diamond, a big, big
diamond, paid for in hard dollars by her husband, not some cut
price

stone from
Nikko or Stefan’s business.

“So they went
to Adelaide, to visit the most expensive jewellery shops. Last
night they rang to say they have bought the perfect ring and are
bringing it back to show us all and celebrate.”

So, on the
strength of this and a phone call from Marco yesterday, telling he
had a huge goat to roast, Athena explained they had decided to have
an impromptu engagement feast tonight. There would of course be a
more formal engagement party on the due date but she and all her
friends had all got to work today making many foods, sweet
pastries, lamb dishes, salad’s, roasted lemon chickens, “much food
and most delicious.”

It was to be a
surprise for the returning guests. But the most special part was
the whole roast goat. It would be cooked on the spit for many
hours, according to Nikko’s special recipe, ready for a night of
feasting.

As she talked
Athena walked Cathy from room to room, showing her the main
features. Despite what appeared to Cathy as a gaudy exterior the
interior of the house was a classic piece of the Mediterranean
brought to this faraway place, done with exquisite taste.

They came to
the third level, just an attic room with a big balcony. They
ascended by narrow stairs. It was a lovely open room, looking out
above the other houses of the town. In its centre was a huge bed
and around the perimeter were various pieces of furniture, chairs,
a dresser, a marble washbasin. Folding doors led to a marble
terrace with terracotta pots and wrought iron chairs.

“This is Mark’s
special room; he has stayed here many times when he visits. He and
my husband have done much business over many years which has made
them both lots of money. So when Mark comes this is always for him,
even if we have other guests we always give this to him. Mark is
like a son to Nikko, though now Stefan will be that son. I think
you will find the bed comfortable and have a good night together,
yes.”

Cathy realised
that Athena had assumed that she and Mark were a couple; the bed
was for them both to share. Perhaps Mark had come here before with
other women.

She felt a
flash of embarrassment; she did not think this was Mark’s plan. But
it would be impolite to say otherwise, to cause embarrassment to
her host and seem ungracious. So she turned and smiled at the lady
saying, “Thank you so much, it looks very comfortable.”

As they came
downstairs the goat was being carried to the courtyard at the back.
A fire of coals was glowing and it was lifted onto a spit where it
was basted with oil and herbs and set to slowly turn away for
hours.

It was a
wonderful night, great company, so many stories that had her
laughing until her sides ached, Nikko was a natural story teller
and Athena could also hold her own. Between the stories came plates
of steaming food, with aromas to die for, roast goat slices,
chickens with lemon and garlic, moussaka, souvlaki, spicy lamb
meatballs on skewers, then sweet delicacies, little deep fried
sweet dumplings, yoghurt with honey and walnuts, delicious honey
and almond pastries. It was all washed down with endless glasses of
retsina and ouzo.