Five Parts Dead by Tim Pegler Page B

looks at me, an eyebrow cocked. Then he grins. ‘No. I want to. I am interested…but she is younger… my sister and her friends they don’t let me near. And my father—he wants me to concentrate on studies—no time for girlfriend. So, I was just…you know Jack Johnson music?’
    I nod, surprised.
    His eyes glint. ‘I was like that song with Ben Stiller… Sitting, Waiting, Wishing .’
    â€˜So what did your dad think when you got the job as a tour guide?’
    â€˜Aaah…he was not happy. Said, “Guide is not a job to make a career of.” He says I should go to the university instead. I told him practising my English will make me better businessman—make more opportunities. I did not tell him I needed a holiday, a break from him…It is tough for him. Expectations are very high for the first child in Japanese families. His friends tell him I have made bad choice.’
    Hiroshi stares at the ceiling. ‘I feel sad for him…He wants what is best for me. We live in small apartment and he works extra hours for us to go to good school. I do well with my studies but I dream of…different things.’
    Nice one Dan. Change the topic. Fast.
    â€˜So did you know we were going to be here? Did you get in touch with Mel about meeting on the ferry?’
    â€˜No!’ A smile spreads across his face. ‘That was… we say “umme”. Ah, how do you say it…“fate”. I was hoping, being in Australia, but when I saw her it was like…the gods are on my side.’
    â€˜Ta dah!’ Mel sashays into the room. She’s wearing an inky-blue cocktail frock, a backless, halter-neck thing that she’s teamed with high heels. Beats me how she managed to cram formal wear in her backpack when I barely squeezed a change of jocks into mine.
    Mel spins on the spot. Hiroshi gawks at her, openmouthed. He has it bad for her. I’m sort of glad for him. Sounds like he’s earned some luck.
    Then Mel is at the door beckoning to Pip. She enters, treading as cautiously as a kitten and blushing. Her embroidered cotton dress is white and strapless with a flowing skirt. I take in her bare shoulders and feet and wonder if I’m gaping like Hiroshi. Pip does a self-conscious twirl on Mel’s command, sending the skirt floating up. She’s put her hair up, with some feathers beside her left ear. She looks…spectacular. Suddenly I feel underdressed, like I should have made an effort. It didn’t occur to me that I might need party clothes…
    â€˜Hiroshi and I thought we’d drive down to the bay,’ Mel says. ‘You right to come, Dan?’
    I nod. ‘Don’t think I can match you ladies for glamour but give me a sec.’
    In my room I rummage through my pack for shorts, a clean T-shirt and a towel. Then I attempt to tame my hair. The trick now is to look like I haven’t bothered.
    Before I lock the cottage I call out to see what we’ve forgotten. ‘Anything else you need me to grab? Shark repellent? Emergency beacon? Wet weather gear?’
    Mel smiles. ‘You are such a boy scout. Dad would be soooo proud…I’ve already brought the swags, just in case. All you need to do is haul your arse on board, you great goose.’ She winks at Hiroshi and he turns the key in the ignition.
    The road from the Cape climbs through dense mallee scrub. Dad reckons the first vehicle to make it to the lighthouse by land, a mail truck, didn’t find a way over the sandy, forested dunes until 1930. The keepers had been at the Cape for more than seventy years, completely dependent on supply ships.
    After the second ridge we drop into a valley where the forest changes, morphing from gnarled, hunchbacked trunks to taller eucalypts with bark draped over their branches like trench coats.
    Hiroshi and Mel are giggling up front, speaking Japanese. I catch Pip’s eye. ‘You look great,’ I