Recoil

3

Sam stood up with a half-eaten dustbin lid in his hands. ‘Can’t it wait? Why do you want to embarrass yourself in front of all these people?’

Lex dropped the bag into the dust. ‘Because you won’t be coming back to Erinvale, will you? All this is finished.’ He unzipped one of the side pockets and scooped out dozens of golf balls. ‘I want to make sure I collect.’

He leaned on one of his clubs, his bleached teeth shining as brightly as his reflecting gigs. ‘Come on, I haven’t all day, man. A bet’s a bet.’

Sam beckoned Jan, who took his steak and put it back on the brai, then went out on to the strip with a rusty can.

Sam walked into the sun, bent down and selected a club. Fuck knows what sort: golf was even higher than cricket and rugby on the list of games I didn’t have a clue about. He did a couple of practice swings. ‘Ten balls each for each bet, OK?’

Lex stood back. ‘You’re on.’

Jan placed the can upright in the sand, about thirty metres away.

Lex pointed his club at the aircraft and gave Crucial a shout. ‘Let’s get everybody onboard. This won’t take long.’

Crucial moved off to organize the barrow boys, who were more used to loading and unloading boxes of weapons. He’d had them on stand-by to collect Tim and the boy, and wheel them on to the aircraft.

Sam kicked off, swung off, whatever it was called, first. Nearest one to the can seemed to be the objective, but you wouldn’t have guessed it by watching him. He looked as good as I would have been.

The first ball headed for DRC, and his game didn’t get any better.

‘Shame, Sammy boy.’ Lex roared with laughter as Sam’s third ball landed on the cam net. ‘You were robbed!’

Lex seemed much more the part as he practised his swing. It looked like I was going to be writing a very big cheque – or was this all about Sam taking the debt off my hands? I couldn’t remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

I left them to it.

Tim was stretching out on one of the barrows. Silky came up and stood by my side. Our arms touched, and for me it was still like the plunger had gone down and I was holding the wires.

‘What’re you two going to do when you get back from Cape Town – set up shop next to Sam, or head back to DRC?’

We faced each other, but neither of us was comfortable with eye to eye. I kind of scanned her face. She’d had a wash, and kind of busied herself pushing her wet hair back. She was as beautiful as ever.

‘We’re going back to DRC to finish off what Mercy Flight started. There’s a lot to be done.’ She watched as the barrow boys did their stuff. ‘And you, Nick – Australia? Really?’

I nodded. ‘Thought I’d try my luck with that message board again.’

‘Nick, I—’

I put a finger to her lips. I didn’t need to hear the rest. I already knew it. I’d probably known it from the moment I saw her in the tent with a pile of blankets over her arm. She’d been in a poxy jungle in the middle of nowhere, but she was in her element. I was happy she’d found what she’d been looking for. Not many people do.

I looked at Tim, as he fed the boy a strip of meat and they both laughed. I knew she’d found something else as well, and she didn’t have to make it any more painful for both of us by saying it out loud.

I took her hands and held them together in mine for the very last time. ‘It’s OK. It’s all OK.’

She leaned in and kissed my cheek. ‘Thank you.’

The two wounded were wheeled away. Silky walked between them, holding their hands.

Deep down, I’d probably known all along I wasn’t the sort of man she’d be happy with. After a lifetime of dislocation, she needed roots, and all I had to offer was about an inch of topsoil before you hit rock.

I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel annoyed. I was just glad I hadn’t asked her to marry me, and put her in a position that would have hurt us both. I felt strangely happy for her. Her new life of living in shit and giving polio jabs was what she truly wanted, and there were worse guys than Tim to share it with.