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CHAPTER
48
Kirsty sat in the cockpit of the Wirraway where Bill Bluett had once sat. She had a packet of matches she’d found in her glove box, and she had her backpack, and she was contemplating burning the copy of Joe’s book that she’d pilfered the day before from the stable, page by page, so she wasn’t sitting in total darkness.
Something scuffled in the darkness, and she jumped. A rat? Please god, not a python. She lit a match and then—belatedly—wondered if the plane’s fuel tank still had flammable liquid in it.
‘Courage,’ she murmured to herself, and felt calmer for just saying it. Her future was looking brighter than it had for a long time, and a little storm and a few rodents were nothing she couldn’t cope with.
Her life from now on was going to be about coping with things. Researching Bill’s life had taught her how.
For instance, she knew she wanted to be a pilot again, because that was important to her and she was good at it, landings included.
She wanted to be a part of Bill’s legacy and see this plane safely moved to a museum, and that, finally, seemed like it was really going to happen.
She wanted, also, to be part of her mum’s life. She wanted to be part of the work her mother was doing to distance herself from pokies, and if that meant overreacting about a handful of raffle tickets and looking like a fool in front of the man she loved every now and then?
Well, that was okay, too.
He’d forgive her, because he was a sweetheart, and she’d finally worked out how to forgive herself. She didn’t need to get everything right, she didn’t need a checklist for life, she just needed to beinvolved.
And she also needed to stop hiding from her problems.
She’d been assaulted by a man when she was a child, and it had left her with more than a bony lump on her forearm. It had left her with an anxiety problem when that sort of situation arose again as an adult.
She knew that now, which meant she could deal with it.
She’d thought putting barriers up would protect her, but it had only made her lonely.
Escaping to Clarence had helped her see that there could be a different way. And of course, then she’d met Joe Miles.
A metallic screech ran through the old shed and she turned her head. Wind, probably, tearing at a loose sheet of iron. Or a possum, trying to get in from the weather. She gripped the straps of her backpack … please god, not rats.
Another creak, and then a crack, and then a beam of light flickered in the shed. A torch!
‘Kirsty? Are you in here?’ said the deep voice she wanted to be listening to for the rest of her life.
Of course he’d found her. ‘Up here.’
The light scanned upwards and she leaned out of the cockpit a little and squinted her eyes. All she could see was a ring of white light and a shadow behind.
‘Thank god. I was worried you’d tried to walk through the water and been swept down the creek.’
She snorted. ‘Joe, I’ve spent the last four years working for a rescue operation. If it’s flooded, forget it.’
He didn’t answer for a while, and she stared down into the light. ‘Joe?’
‘Yeah, I’m here. I’m just texting Hogey to let him know where we are. Is there room for me up there?’
She blinked. ‘Sure.’ Which wasn’t at all true; it would be like squeezing two people into a metal sleeping bag, but he’d be close.
Really close.
Surely anything they had to say to each other would only be made better by being smooshed up cheek-to-cheek.
His boots rang on the aluminium step of the ladder, and then his head was there at eye level. ‘How do I get in?’
‘I’ll stand up and move back, then you sit where I’m sitting.’
