An Indecent Obsession. Mudrooroo

in sight. I got out, bought a ticket, then unable to keep still or put off my investigation, strode over to the Drinks Kiosk (the name and without an apostrophe “S”) and after buying a coke, showed the dowdy woman behind the counter, the photograph.

      ‘Did you see this woman on Saturday morning,’ I asked her.

      ‘To busy then to notice anyone, love’ she replied.

      I went back to my car and sat there staring at the doodle. ‘The bitch,’ I suddenly exclaimed loud enough to make a man who was walking past misstep. He glanced my way then hurried off. Thank God, the barge was nearing the wharf and soon I would know for sure whether she had had an accident or was still on the island for whatever sordid reason. Well, I would show her a thing or two. I had had enough of her peccadilloes. I stared at the heavy clumsy car ferry maneuvering to the quay. It banged against the land, like, well, like my fist would slam against her jaw. The cars and trucks drove off and then I was on and sailing towards my kismet, my destiny. It lay in wait for me there, almost as plain as the great scar sand mining had slashed down the central hill of the island.

      If this was another time and I was going, say for a bit of a relax, I would have sat back, put the radio onto the Classical Music station and settled back hopefully to listen to Brahms. The bay was seldom rough and when it wasn’t raining quite picturesque in a classical music sort of way. But this was not the time to take things easy. I felt my teeth grinding together so that I had to consciously make an effort to stop them. Visions of her fucking and enjoying someone else filled my mind. I managed to have myself under control when the barge man came to check my ticket. I showed him the photograph and asked if he remembered the woman from Saturday as she had not returned from her trip.

      He barely glanced at it before replying, ‘No, mate.’

      ‘Well what about Johnny White, a well known Rugby player. He had a whole team with him.’

      ‘Them,’ the bloke exclaimed. ‘Who could forget that lot?’

      ‘And she wasn’t with them?’

      ‘No, only blokes,’ and he went off.

      It was then that I thought of her with one of those beefy Rugby players and the thought chilled me. Still it was something I could not believe of her. She would never stoop to that level after being with me. She didn’t like that macho type. Well, that was what she had said; but was she to be believed? They might have gotten her drunk and the whole team gone through her. For an instant I saw and enjoyed the scene, then dismissed it. Her brother was there and they belonged to a class which reacted in a fury if a sister was threatened. I really was barking up the wrong tree in my anxiety. I tried to stare at the view, but found myself instead watching a woman with red hair a few cars away. She turned her face towards me and she was nothing like my wife.

      Dunwich, and I drove off and rushed along the East Coast Highway. There was Myora, but I ignored it, too far from the beach and Darlene was one for the beach. I reached the first camping ground between Amity Point and Point Lookout at Adder Rock. No! There was another at Cylinder Beach. Again, no luck! I rushed past the red brick facade of the Anchorage Beach Resort. I doubted that she would have been there. Too expensive! Next, I came to the main Redland Shire Camping Ground and they remembered Johnny and the Rugby team that spent all the night boozing and playing practical jokes. Darlene had not been among them. I hesitated, what to do now? Perhaps she had not come to the island after all, but if this was the case where would I find her?

      I go back into my car and drove slowly towards the point. I was feeling despondent and about to give up when I saw the pub. Everyone went there and surely if she had been on the island someone must remember her. Maybe she even stayed there to escape the Rugby team and their antics.

      I pulled into the parking lot and taking the photograph, got out and walked into the bar. It was as I remembered it, touristy. There was a young bloke behind the counter and I bought a beer and then showed him the photograph.

      He studied it and said, ‘She looks familiar. Did you say, the weekend? Go and ask, Mavis, she remembers everyone, especially the sheilas. Underage a lot of them, you know.’

      ‘Where’s this Mavis,’ I asked him, and he directed me to the dining room.

      The woman had sharp gray eyes which matched her grey hair. She took the photograph from my hand, held it up to the light and studied it.

      ‘Weekend, you say,’ she muttered.

      ’She might have been with the Rugby team,’ I replied.

      ‘Those boys,’ she said. ‘Naw, not her!. She was in here, in this dining room. Had a feed, Bloke was with her, a thick set chap. He bought the meal with a hundred dollar note, that’s how I remember him. He was not much to look at, looked a bit too old for her, but they were lovey dovey. You know sitting at the same side of the table and close together. Didn’t stay here though, neither of them. Went off, I don’t know where and that was the last I saw of them. Saturday night it was. Early! They didn’t stay around for the band. Expect they wanted some place quieter, more romantic.’

      Bingo, I almost shouted. The bitch had come over here to meet someone, but who? And where did they go after they had had a meal here? I thanked her and took myself outside to sit on one of the benches there that gave a fine view of the Pacific, but I wasn’t interested in that. A thickset bloke, oldish, with money, just the type she would go for. The question though was where had they spent that Saturday night and then there was Sunday too if he did not have to rush back to prepare for work on Monday? After some consideration, I decided that the only accommodation apart from the hotel and the camping grounds where they might have sought shelter was The Anchorage Beach Resort. A bit pricey, but if he had money, Darlene would have insisted on it. It was the perfect place for a dirty weekend. Indeed it had a reputation for that and Elaine and I had spent a night there, but I had no time to think of that ex-wife when my present one had been unfaithful to me.

      I got up and rushed out. I had to know, I had to, and whether it was a premeditated thing or not. A casual encounter, I could forgive, but not outright betrayal, but then why hadn’t she come home? Bitch, her and her excuses about headaches and back pains, when all the time she was getting it somewhere else and I was the stupid husband who suspected nothing, until it was too late.

      At the resort, there was a young foreign guy who took my photograph and laid it on the counter. He stared at it long enough for me to know that he recognized her. He looked up and said: ‘I don’t see this woman.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ I insisted and to jog his memory, I pulled out my wallet and laid a twenty beside the photograph.

      He picked up the money and then said: ‘Ah, yes, Saturday night. Busy it was, but I was on desk duty. She came in, not late about 10 o’clock. She was with one of the guests. They went to his room. If she stayed, I do not know, for I was off at twelve and not on duty on Sunday.’

      It was enough for me. My stomach sank. Now I knew, but who was he?

      ‘You haven’t got a name to go with that man, have you,’ I asked.

      ‘No, no, no, my job! I am not allowed to give out the names of guests. Some newspaper man! He has been here before, but not with her.’

      I would get no more information from him, and so I wandered through and out the back and down to the beach. I had been betrayed. She was with a bloke and in his room, fucking! Then there was Sunday. They could have been on this beach. She loved the beach. She would have walked here, with him!

      Unlike the Mirage Resort this beach was public though with hollows back from the flat sand close enough to the line of banksia trees which had been planted to stop sand erosion. They gave couples privacy. I wandered along the irregular line of trees and examined spots with signs indicating that couples had been lying there. I came to a hollow where a coke and beer bottle stood upright together and as I stared these resolved into evidence. They had been there. I saw them come out of the water she running ahead and he puffing behind. They had spread their towels out here and now they would dry off and then sun bake. It was away from everyone and the deep depression almost a hole would hide them from the sight