Page 64 of Lost In Kakadu

“Nothing. It’s just … what do you think the date is? My birthday’s the 25th of June.”

“Okay, well we left on the twenty-fourth of April. Add sixty-three days that’d make it …” He rolled his eyes skyward as he calculated. “It could be your birthday. That’s amazing. Your subconscious was telling you something.”

Her heart was torn. She’d begged Spencer to organise a party for her and now he lay in a shallow grave, only a few steps away. She had grand plans for her celebration with over four hundred people coming from all over the world.

Instead, she was sharing her birthday with a man she’d only known for two months. Shrugging off her sorrow, she walked to the fire. “We had a huge party planned. A lovely white marquee was to be set up in the back garden with a jazz band and we booked the best caterers over a year ago.”

She studied the fire, admiring the beauty of the dancing flames. “I was so annoyed with my friend Maxine, she wanted me to have a barbeque for something different.”

Abigail began to laugh and between breaths she said, “Oh my God, Maxine would be hysterical if she could see me now. I am having a barbeque and to top that off, I’m eating an animal that looks like a giant rat.”

She ran her fingers through her hair but gave up when she caught a knot. “She wanted to cook prawns, Moreton Bay bugs and lobster. Oh my, this is so funny.” Another thought occurred to her, and she stopped laughing. “I wonder if anyone cancelled the caterers.”

“I’m sure they would have. Well, birthday girl, how about I prepare a special dish for you?”

She twisted her diamond ring around her finger. “Mmm, that would be nice.”

“So, madam … how old are you today?”

“Forty. Forty and a widow.” This was the first time she’d spoken those words aloud and it surprised her that she didn’t feel anything. Both labels should horrify her, but instead she was completely numb. Or maybe she’d finally accepted them. Abigail looked for Mackenzie’s reaction, but he didn’t offer one. She cast her futile analysing aside. “So, what do you wantmeto do?”

“Nothing. It’s your birthday. Why don’t you make some notes in your diary? I haven’t seen you do that for a while.”

“I think I’ll do a little reading instead.” She strolled toward the plane.

Prior to the crash, Abigail had religiously written in her diary, every day scribbling mundane thoughts onto the gold trimmed pages. But not long after the crash, she realised just how pathetic her journal was. Issues that previously seemed so important were trivial and meaningless.

Reading back on some of her entries she admitted she’d lived a shallow existence. She was a fraud. Every entry was contrived.

She’d learned more about herself in the last two months than she had in her lifetime and vowed she would not return to her nightly writing ritual until she could be honest with herself. She wanted to write what she was feeling without worrying about what people would think.

Owning her thoughts and expressing them freely were her greatest desires.

But she wasn’t quite ready yet.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mackenzie saw the longing in her eyes but didn’t pry. “Okay, I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.” He watched her walk toward the plane and step inside.

Since they’d dropped the fuselage from its stranglehold in the trees, their settlement was more comfortable. Mackenzie had removed the last of the chairs and stripped the interior of the plane back to a bare shell. In doing so, he’d discovered a metal box in the cockpit that contained a variety of tools, the most valuable being a small axe that came in handy with everything from preparing meals to cutting wood.

He’d bashed the floor until it was as flat as possible and with two mattresses made from parachutes stuffed with leaves, it now served as their bedroom. Mackenzie built a wooden frame to cover the back half of the plane to enclose it more and protect them from the elements. Despite their isolation, he was quite proud of their cosy little campsite.

His hunting skills were now quite good too and he could usually catch small animals with ease. Although he had to apply limits to the amount of flour, sugar and beans he used with each meal, their supply was steadily diminishing.

God help us when we run out completely.

To celebrate her birthday, he wanted to do something special and as he deboned the quoll an idea formed in his mind.

During a recent bush exploration, they’d stumbled upon a shrubwith plump green and red fruits. According to Charlie’s journal they were called Munthari and were known as bush cranberries. Their Granny Smith apple flavour tasted great with wild meat and Mackenzie had even used the fruit once to make mini tarts for dessert.

As he stuffed the quoll with a mixture of the berries and crushed wattle seeds, he sensed Abigail sneaking glances. He stopped what he was doing, stared at the side of the plane and chewed on his bottom lip as he waited, knowing it wouldn’t be long. She was terrible with surprises, always needing to know the details. Finally, he caught her peeking out the side.

“Aha, caught yah. You’ll spoil the surprise.”

She grumbled and disappeared. Moments later she strolled to the fire with Charlie’s letters tucked under her arm. “I’ll just be over here then … in case you need me.”

“Okay, but no peeking.”

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