Butterfly Hunter 01 (9 page)

He cast Dave an apologetic
smile as he walked closer. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake
you.”

“
Morning. No,
you didn’t. This is kinda my usual time.” Dave figured Nicholas
must have been very quiet; Dave usually had a sense for what was
happening within his own campsite. “How long have you been
up?”

“
Oh, an hour
or more. I wanted to see the stars again. I wanted to watch the
sunrise.”

“
Of course,”
said Dave, as if this were the most natural thing on earth. Which
it was, really. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“
Thank you.
Can I help?”

“
No need,” he
easily replied.

Dave put the kettle on,
got the tea makings ready, and then took another couple of blankets
over to the Cruiser. “Come on, you don’t have to sit up there.”
Dave spread one of the blankets over the bonnet and windscreen,
then indicated that Nicholas should get up there, make himself
comfortable.

“
Are you
sure?” asked Nicholas.

“
Absolutely.
Go on. Just be careful of the windscreen wipers. Like, don’t sit
right on ’em, or anything.”

“
I
won’t. I know what this car means to you … Well, it’s not a
car
, is it?
This vehicle,” he amended. And then he got it right: “Your beloved
Cruiser.”

Dave guffawed under his
breath. “I’m that obvious, am I?”

“
To someone
who pays attention.” Nicholas grinned unapologetically.

Dave didn’t deign to
respond. “I’ll get the tea,” he advised. Once they were both
settled there on the bonnet, wrapped in blankets and with mugs of
tea steaming from their hands, Dave said, “I remembered that story
for you. About butterflies … ?”

Nicholas turned to him with the
loveliest warmest smile.

Dave cleared his throat,
and indicated the eastern horizon, which was starting to glow pale
gold. “No, you watch the sunrise, and let me talk.”

That lovely smile quirked
with humour, and Nicholas turned away again. “All
right.”

“
There’s this
Aussie singer–songwriter, Pete Murray. He’s really good. I’ll play
you the CDs if you’re interested.”

“
I’d love
that,” Nicholas murmured.

“
Anyway,
there’s this song of his, called ‘Ten Ft. Tall’. He tells the story
behind it before he plays it at gigs. And it’s about these two
friends of his, who were childhood sweethearts. They grew up and
got married, and were as happy as. She loved butterflies,” Dave
continued with a nod at Nicholas. “She always said that when she
died, she’d come back as a butterfly.”

Nicholas was silent now, staring
towards the lightening sky, but also listening carefully.

“
Well, she got
cancer, though they were all still quite young. And she fought it
for a couple of years, but eventually she passed away.” He took a
breath. “It was about a week after the funeral, her husband and his
mates were having a quiet drink down the pub. It was already late,
it was almost closing time. And this butterfly flew in through a
window, and it headed right for the guy, and settled on his
shoulder. And he didn’t say anything. He just put down his beer and
walked out of there. And the butterfly stayed with him the whole
way home.”

Nicholas was completely still.
The gold grew brighter, and the sky overhead ran from blues,
through rich purples, to black velvet.

“
And Pete
always finishes by saying that it’s a true fact that butterflies
never fly at night.”

Silence.

“
It’s really
awesome. I mean, it’s an awesome part of the show. A great
song.”

Still nothing from Nicholas. OK,
something had evidently gone wrong somewhere.

“
Mate –” Dave
leaned forward to get a glimpse of Nicholas’s face. And discovered
that his eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. “Mate, you should
have stopped me. It’s a sad story, I know.”

Nicholas glanced at him
with a hint of that same lovely smile, only wobblier. “It’s a
beautiful story,” he amended. “And you’re a romantic, David
Taylor!”

“
I am not!” he
retorted.

“
No, of course
not,” Nicholas agreed, though with a catch in his voice. He’d
turned away again, facing resolutely towards the sunrise, the
breaking day. Either the sight was a distraction or it brought with
it a man’s fate, whether good or bad. “I’m sorry!” Nicholas said in
a gasp. And, all right, obviously he was close to full–on weeping
now.

“
Ah, mate …”
Dave reached to pat him on the back for sympathy, for
reassurance.

And they sat there
together watching the sky brighten, and then at last – suddenly – a
molten line of gold appeared. Not so long after, the magic was
chased away by the new clean day. Dave wasn’t sure how much of that
Nicholas had managed to take in, but the man slipped away with
another quiet apology once it was over, and disappeared into his
tent.

Dave sighed, and went to brew
more tea, and make breakfast.

The days and nights of the first
week of their trip continued much the same. Except for the dawn
tears; they avoided any repetition of that scene. Whenever Dave
suspected that Nicholas was out there watching the sunrise, he just
turned within his sleeping bag and went back to sleep for a
while.

They got along well
enough. Nicholas was engaged with his hunt, even though he was
basically doing no more for now than providing further records for
fairly well known phenomena. Dave was patient in assisting his
client, and Nicholas was an efficient and uncomplaining member of
Dave’s camp.

The only time they came
near to trouble was on the third evening, after Dave had checked in
with Denise. Once he’d ended the call, he headed back towards his
tent to put away the satellite phone – only to be met halfway there
by Nicholas’s puzzled scowl.

Dave almost stumbled a step,
half surprised, half defensive.

“
Are you
going to call her
every
night?” Nicholas demanded.

“
What?
Yes.”

“
Seriously?”

“
Yes. It’s a
matter of safety. Especially a trip like this when we don’t know
where we’ll end up. I told you, she makes a note of the latitude
and longitude, so –”

“
I understand
that.”

So they’ll know
where to find the bodies.
But of course
he wasn’t mean or unprofessional enough to say that. “Used to be
Dad I’d call as often as Denny. Before he – you know.
Died.”

“
But
every
night?” Nicholas returned, as if pleading for
reason.

The defensiveness abruptly
switched to its opposite. “
My
rules, remember? Life and
death? You might be thankful some day that I was careful. Even,” he
allowed, the anger turning lame already – “even a bit more careful
than I needed to be.”

“
I think
you’re using that as an excuse.”

Dave’s head went back, and
a stunned moment welled between them. Then he bit. “What if I am?
What’s your problem? Jealous, are you?”

Dave regretted that the
moment it was out, but Nicholas responded quickly enough, as if he
didn’t see it as inappropriate at all. “Whether I am or not, I
should think that any of your friends would be wanting you to move
on by now – more than a
year
after she left you
behind.”

“
Well,” Dave
started. “Look, she –” But he trailed off.

What could he say? How could he
argue with a truth that no one else but for Denise herself had
quite dared to tell him.

He took refuge in a rule
that he should have remembered before now. “I appreciate your
concern,” Dave said frostily, “but it’s none of your business. Just
like your private life is none of mine.”

“
Right,”
Nicholas crisply responded, and he glared before turning
away.

Still, half an hour later
they were eating dinner across the campfire from one another, and
they were conversing – a bit stiltedly, but with goodwill. And
eventually in a quiet moment, Nicholas murmured, “I’m sorry,
David.”

“
Not a
problem,” answered Dave. “I was out of line, too.”

And he was rewarded with
one of Nicholas’s beautiful gentle smiles.

The real trouble began at the
end of the week. Dave had begun packing up the camp as usual, but
instead of pitching in as he always did, Nicholas was loitering,
looking dissatisfied.

“
I want to
stay,” Nicholas eventually announced.

“
What?”

“
I want to
stay here at the campsite.”

“
No. No, we
agreed. Once a week –”

“
Supplies, I
know. But you can go, can’t you, David? You’ve gone alone for
petrol and water before.”

“
Only once!”
Dave slid one of the packing cases home into the back of the
Cruiser, and then turned to consider the man. “It’s not just
supplies. It’s civilisation. It’s other people, and a proper bed
for the night, and a proper meal. It’s the news, and the internet,
and calling home. Aren’t you tired of my company yet?”

It was the wrong question,
of course. Nicholas put his head down, but tilted one of his wicked
little smiles up at Dave from under the brim of his Akubra. He
really knew how to work that damned hat already. “No, I’m not tired
of you yet. Maybe not ever.”

“
Right. Well.
Don’t you think your father would appreciate it if you emailed your
butler or whatever, and told him you’re still alive?”

Surprisingly, that earned
him another scowl. “God, will you stop calling him
that?”

“
Who? Your
father … ?”

“
My
butler
or
whatever
,” Nicholas returned mockingly.
“I suppose you think you’re being all very egalitarian, but I don’t
see why you should disapprove of someone getting paid well to do a
good day’s work. He helps us run that massive old house, which is
trickier than you’d think, and he’s been part of the family since
before I was even born.”

“
All
right!”

“
And
his
name
, which you’d know if you’d been paying attention, is
Simon.”

“
Yes. All
right. Simon. I had a fair bit to do with Simon while he was
booking this trip, and I reckon he’d like to know you’re
alive.”

“
So,
you
can email him, can’t you?”

Dave guffawed. “I think he
expects more from me than to leave you alone at a campsite out the
back of Bourke …”

Nicholas glared at him
stubbornly, with his hands shoved hard into his jeans pockets.
“I’ll be all right. What’s going to happen? Nothing bad has
happened all this week!”

“
It’s no use
pushing your luck,” Dave advised. He could just imagine Nicholas
totally klutzing out: tripping over his own feet, hitting his head
on something as he got back up, and God knows what after that. “Any
one of a hundred things could go wrong, it could get really dire,
and it would be my fault for leaving you here.”

“
David
–”

“
No, I can’t
do it.”

“
Can’t or
won’t … ?”

“
Both!”

“
David, I
might never get back here. I want to make the most of
it.”

“
You’ve got to
know when to quit, mate.”

“
The
simple truth is that I
like
it out here. I want to have
a day of peace and quiet out here, instead of –”

“
No.”
Dave cut him off, and walked closer to make his point. “I
can’t
,
Nicholas. And what I say goes, remember? You promised me you’d
respect that.”

“
For heaven’s
sake … I’m not asking for much.”

“
You’re asking
for far too much. You said you’d trust me.”

“
David
–”

“
Mr Goring
–”

Nicholas let out an
unhappy “Hah!” and turned away. A silence stretched, which Dave was
wise enough not to break. “All right. If you’re going to
Mr Goring
me, I’ll have to take you seriously.”

“
Thank
you.”

“
Under
protest.”

Dave sighed. “Would you
please pack your bag? I need to take your tent down.”

“
Of course,”
said Nicholas quietly. “I’ll help.”

But that was only the beginning
of it.

It was a different town,
somewhat rougher than Charleville. Dave had friends there, but he
thought of it as more frontier than civilisation. Still … in this
day and age, he hadn’t thought there’d be anywhere he maybe should
think twice about taking Nicholas.

They arrived
mid–afternoon, checked into a motel, took their accumulated garbage
to the tip, and then went shopping. Nicholas came along, determined
to help, despite Dave excusing him from any further
responsibilities. Then while Dave was repacking the Cruiser with
their new supplies, and filling up with water and petrol, Nicholas
went to use the motel’s Wi–Fi to connect to the
internet.