Page 76 of Lost In Kakadu

Mackenzie sighed. “Let’s eat first.” He looked squarely into dark green eyes that he’d grown to love.

“Okay.” She walked away and he could’ve sworn she had a skip inher step.

After what Mackenzie assumed to be about forty minutes, he removed the turkey from the oven and tied wire around it. He then juggled the hot meat onto a makeshift rotisserie that he placed over the hot coals. When the skin was crisp and golden, he carried the roast from the fire and pushed it off the end of the stick and onto a tin sheet at their table.

They didn’t wait for it to cool, delving into the juicy meat, oblivious to the heat burning their fingers.

Juice trickled down Abi’s hands and chin. “Oh God, this is good.” She spoke with her mouth full.

Mackenzie grimaced at her choice of words. Despite how often they were spoken, those two words always conjured up the same image and constantly reminded him why he hated Christmas.

She licked her fingers. “This is the best meal yet. How good is it?”

“It’s good.”

“I’ll never be able to eat oven cooked turkey again.”

Mackenzie laughed. “And you thought barbeques were second rate.”

Gradually the sky washed with burnished light, creating a surreal orange glow over the surrounding vegetation. The sunset finale was accentuated by the chorus of birds singing their last song before the crickets took over. Night eased in and a layer of cold air descended upon them.

Soon the black sky flaunted a blanket of stars from one horizon to the other.

They relaxed next to each other in their leather seats by the fire. Mackenzie was content with a full stomach, the warm fire and the mild evening weather.

What else could I ask for?

But it wouldn’t be long before Abi brought up Christmas again, so he figured he might as well get it over with. “Do you remember me telling you about Grace?”

“Yes, you lived with her, and her brother Peter and she was the first girl you kissed.”

Mackenzie twisted in his seat to look at her. “Wow, you really were listening.”

“Some things I remember. Others …” She shrugged.

“Right. Well after Pete died, Grace … didn’t cope very well. She took up the drugs, big time. Then to support the habit she turned to prostitution.”

“Oh no.” A small crease formed between Abi’s brows.

“I tried to help her, but …” He could still see Grace’s eyes as if it had only happened yesterday. In the space of just five short months after Pete’s death, she went from being a vibrant full-of-life sixteen-year-old, to a girl who’d seen more horror than anyone should in a lifetime. Her eyes replicated her mind—hopeless, lifeless and lost.

“What happened to her?”

“I have no idea.”

Abi reached for his hand and when their fingers interlocked it was like a lost piece of a puzzle finding its correct place. “Tell me about it, Mack.”

He sighed. “It was my first Christmas after Pete died and I was still living in Kings Cross. My room was really small, you know ... one of those rooms that smells old and is surrounded by sounds of sin.”

She frowned and shook her head.

“Well, it was about the size of the plane, bloody small. All I had was a mattress, bar fridge, sink, shower and toilet. And the walls were so thin, it was nothing to hear people having sex at all times of the day and night.”

“Oh God. How old were you?”

He shrugged. “I would’ve been nearly fifteen.”

She shook her head. “So young.”

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