Chapter 7: Into Never Never!

As I walked back to the truck after my shower, I could see Bonnie sitting in the driver’s seat, sipping from a takeaway coffee cup. I smiled to myself and wondered what her reaction to my decision, one made in the shower, would be. I felt relaxed and happy, much more so than when I awoke in pain just after dawn. My head felt better and I was no longer feeling sick at heart, I was even hungry and had picked up some breakfast for us both from the cafeteria. I was clearly in no legal condition to drive yet, but I felt that the fact that I had chundered so hard at the party so soon after drinking all that overcompensating alcohol, most of the damaging effects of the rum I had necked had been purged from my body.

I cheerfully waved at the beautiful woman sitting there so eager to continue her road trip, and she waved back vigorously. Even through the glass, her smile outshone the sun. I opened the passenger door and climbed up inside, dumped my bag behind the seat and draped my wet towel over the wire A-frame towel rack there for the purpose.

“G’day partner,” I said as soon as I climbed aboard and before I stowed my gear, “As you contributed the coffees, I bought us some cold sangers for breakfast, although there’s no hurry, you can start to eat once we reach the open road and you’ll be driving straight for several hundred clicks.”

“Great, what’ve you got?” she asked as she started up the engine and checking all the mirrors like she’d been doing it for years.

“Cheese and pickle, ham and mustard, sliced egg and snags, and my favourite, crispy bacon and avos.”

“Avos?” she asked.

“Avocado, they go so well with bacon, you just wait.”

“I’ll try some once we get underway,” she smiled, happy I thought to be moving towards the Northern Territory and an international airport which will get her home and away from this madhouse we call home. “Oh, while you were showering I have done all the checks, including the door locks and kicked every damn tyre, so, are you ready for me to drive off?”

“So ready, Bonnie, that, with no disrespect to your driving or the spectacular views, as soon as we hit the highway, I’m going to rest my eyes while I enjoy me coffee.”

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I got what I thought you needed.”

“Sweet, strong and black as night?”

“Huh huh.”

“Then that’s exactly what I want right now.” I picked up the mug from the holder, relaxed and breathed in the cool air circulating the cab, my nostrils filled with the subtle fragrance of her scent. It reminded me of my decision.

“With these four rounds of sangers in this bag, I hope that, other than toilet breaks and swapping driving duties, we can keep going for most of the rest of the day. If we get far enough by midnight tonight, I hope a long fourteen to sixteen hour drive tomorrow will get us into Darwin by tomorrow night. That way I can still deliver the paper early on Friday morning, drop the truck off at the truck park by the airport and you can get a cab to meet your sisters when they get in. Do you think you... ?”

“Yes, of course I can drive for quite a while. I am not tired at all. Although I didn’t sleep all that well, because I was too upset, but I feel energised and positive now.”

“Good. I apologise again for upsetting you, but I wanted to make sure that we understood each other regarding the plans we both have at the end of this long road. If you can keep going until our first toilet break, then we’ll each do a couple of hours at a time alternating until sunset, when I’ll night drive until we get close to Alice Springs. If you can still stand the sight of me by Friday. Then maybe we could still be friends.”

“So, as simply friends, you will be comfortable with us sharing the sleeping arrangements together tonight?”

“Yeah, we managed yesterday morning, and this time we are going to be so exhausted ... er, you will be wearing panties this time, won’t you?”

“Huh huh, I’ll be wearing something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” she giggled, “just kidding, nothing blue, just ... me, Blue.” Then more seriously, “You’ve called me Bonnie so far today, Mark, which is so formal. Can you go back to calling me ‘Blue’ or ‘Bluey’ just for the next two days?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to feel differently, like this is a time away from my usual existence. I want to get back that feeling of being free-er, if that is a word in English, just like I felt yesterday morning when we left that truck stop blazing away.”

“Yeah, freer, I get that, that is exactly what I wanted.”

“Wanted?” she asked, “Oh, is it turn left here?”

“Yeah, left at the junction, then over the bridge in a few minutes and straight through to Coober Pedy, except for a fuel break in between,” I replied. “‘Wanted’ was when I originally formulated my plans to sell up the business to fund my two years’ travelling alone. I still want to do that.”

“I thought you said you had just sold this truck, for enough to fund you for a couple of months’ holiday.”

“Well, I didn’t know you well enough then and didn’t feel comfortable sharing my plans. My business wasn’t just this one truck, it was a thriving and growing business of twenty-one trucks. The business had doubled in four years and reached a point where it needed a different management structure to take it to the next level. You could’ve been after my money, not that I’ve got that much, just enough to buy me time to realise some of my bucket list dreams, so I toned it down a little.”

“But now you’re telling me this, does that mean you trust me more?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. We have these two days together, that’s all, and you are in charge of the driving for now so at the very least I’m trusting you with my life. I don’t do that lightly. I wouldn’t trust my wife with my life! Anyway, if we remain friends after this, I’ll be able to post you postcards from the places I visit.”

“I’d like that. I’d like to keep in touch. I could buy your photograph books and give them away as presents and post glowing reviews online for you. So, you’re spending two whole years away from home exploring the world? Is that time frame set in stone for you?”

“Kind of, I haven’t sold up everything, just the business. I still have what was my aunt’s house in Melbourne. I moved all the nice furniture and stuff of sentimental value into storage and furnished the house with the top end of utility stuff. The tenants have a two year contract through my estate agent, with an option for a third year at an agreed rate that I’m obliged to accept if they express their option to take it up.”

“What would you do if they want to take up that option?”

“Continue travelling, if I have the bank balance for it, or rent a one-bed unit for the year. Same thing if I get bored or fed up with bumming around the world and come home early. Then I will have thousands of photos to process and research and write my travel books, which will keep me busy for some time. After that I will see if I can get them published.”

“I know a publisher in Copenhagen who publishes books mostly in the English speaking world. I went to school with her. So, even as you jet around the world, you will still consider here as your ‘home’?”

“I’ve never been anywhere else to live, just the odd working week with Maggie to Sumatra and Borneo and two weeks in Brazil on the Amazon for our honeymoon, and both of those trips were spent in relative luxury, we never really saw the local people in their environment, and the photography that she wanted to take wasn’t really what I wanted to shoot myself.”

She was quiet for a while, while we both finished our coffee as she drove on. I had my eyes closed until we crossed the Joy Baluch Am bridge at 25 clicks an hour and Bonnie remarked on the views. I had been across that bridge many times before, but always at speed and usually driving nose to tail, so I never had time before to check out the spectacular Spencer Gulf. We exchanged a few neutral sentences about embarking on our coast to coast trip, while I closed my eyes again and I must have dropped off almost immediately after.

We travelled for a couple of hours before I was conscious again. Bonnie was calling me. I was imagining I was lying in a comfortable bed, all alone but comfortably relaxed and surrounded by her lovely perfume. I was determined to casually ask what it was at sometime over the next two days, so I could buy a bottle, or a tester if it was really expensive. Yeah, it certainly smelt expensive. Why would I buy a tester? A crazy souvenir of a brief friendship that I was sure would last in my memories longer than Maggie ever could? Maybe. In fact Maggie had almost been expunged, deleted, replaced by new memories that I thought, if I played it cool would live on forever without actually breaking my heart.

“Mark, wake up.”

That got through to me. I shook myself awake. I was in the shotgun seat in my cab in the middle of the outback with a noonday heat haze ahead of us. I shook my head again, as the only thing left from the dream was the reassuring presence of Bonnie’s lended perfume. I looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back briefly, then got back to watching the road. Bonzer girl, I thought, she’d make one great truckie if she wasn’t rich enough to afford to live in Monaco. I may be dumb as a galah, but even I know that for a foreigner to be allowed to take up residence in a tax haven like Monte Carlo, you needed serious schrapnel in your pockets, like millions. And she has an apartment there, too, although not sure if she rents it or owns it. No matter, she probably owns it. Now my modest home in Melbourne had to be priced up for rental and insurance purposes and it was worth a shade under six hundred thousand, so even a small place in Monaco has to be worth maybe a million dollars?

“Sorry, I must’ve dropped off almost immediately we left PA. I should have remained awake and talking to you.” Yeah, I thought, these were precious few moments that would fill my thoughts successfully blocking out Maggie, fresh images that I could ill afford to miss so lightly. “Where are we?”

“A sign back there said were were 5 kilometres from Glendambo and that it was the last stop for 260 kilometres until Coober Pedy. I thought you could show me what fuel we use and run me over again how we fill up, but in practical terms rather than the theory that you ran past me the day before yesterday.”

“Yeah, sure. It was only yesterday, although really early.”

She nodded and smiled, looking at the road.

I looked her beautiful flawless face and realised that I could have been looking at that profile for the last couple of hours, but then I wondered how I could do that and still breathe in and out enough to remain alive.

“We can stretch our legs too,” I said, “maybe get something hot to eat. It’s a tiny servo stop but they have a nice restaurant, a general store and a pub. Let’s relax and maybe you can grab some kip this arvo while I drive for a while.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“Have the roads been busy?”

“I counted just five trucks and a couple of cars in two hours. It is tiring, just trying to concentrate. That heat haze can be mesmerising.”

“Yeah, people can’t believe how tiring driving in this environment can be, and you can’t take your eyes off the road for a moment because of wildlife. A car hitting a big buck roo could be a write off, while, they’d bounce off our roo bars and carry on bouncing, but then when you look in the rear view, they often get up and bounce away. Without the bar they’d be under the wheels. There’s no getting up from that, they’re the next driver’s long meadow barbie steak!”

“We’re here now,” she announced. The sign ahead read, ‘Welcome to Glendambo, elevation 150m, population: sheep 22,500, flies 2,000,000 approx, humans 30!’

I saw the servo immediately ahead and, without being told, she slowed down safely and turned right into Robert Bruce Drive. A few metres on we turned right again into the servo.

“Head for the pumps over at the left hand side and park up with the front wheels lined up with the end of the island, and the pump will line up with our juice inlet.” And when she parked perfectly, I complimented her on it.

“Beaut. Come on, you can fill her up and I’ll look over your shoulder, checking you out. Oh, you know what I mean.”

She grinned at set about her task without hesitation, while I watched her.

I admired her long kissable neck, with her copper hair tied up in a pony tail and my peaked trucker cap with the slogan, “Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!” on it jammed on her head. She carried herself as a confident ‘Sheila Truckie’ — don’t mess with me’ businesslike attitude, while being cute and gorgeous as the same time. The traffic blues might stop her on the highway but it wouldn’t be to check her paper credentials. They way she carried herself, her qualifications looked as good as read.

Bonnie had no trouble with that little task of filling her up without splashing and she seemed pleased with herself and was pleased with my genuine compliments for yet another good job. She really looked stunning with her face so full of smiles. I was going to miss that, so I soaked up that image like a Queensland billabong sampling the first few drops of The Wet.

Damn, I thought, I’ve got a camera, I’ve had the bloody thing all along and not taken a bloody picture of this goddess of beauty. Not one bloody snap! I thought, ‘if we go for a short walk this arvo, after we’ve refreshed ourselves with dinner, I could get some priceless pictures’.

“I’ll settle the juice bill at the store here while you go park at the back of the Glendambo Hotel next door. Drivers know it as the Woolshed. We’ll have dinner there; it’s a bit classier than the Roadhouse next to the servo. Lock up and I’ll meet you back in the general store here, I’ve got a couple of things to pick up.”

“All right, see you in a couple of minutes.”

The Glendambo station appeared to be pretty basic but it had a restaurant in the hotel serving hot food that I’d used before. The staff in the store ignored me while I looked at what they had and bought a couple of replacement lighters, but as soon as Bonnie joined me, carrying her backpack, we were surrounded by all the local help, falling over themselves, eager to serve her. One of them casually called her Bonnie, without being introduced, which pricked up my ears. So I steered her to the Woolshed restaurant, where we were quickly served by the waitress and our order taken.

“Everyone seems to know you, Bonnie, just like Shona’s rellies at the PA community centre, what’s going on?” I asked when the waitress left.

“Yes, they do seem to,” she smiled back broadly, apparently enjoying my confusion.

“Why is that? Have you modelled in Australia much recently?”

“Not really, I did a little promo work in Sydney about ten, no, make that nearer fifteen years ago, but the nearest modelling I’ve done to here was in New Zealand, maybe two or three times over the last ten years. Coming here this year was part of the appeal of this photo shoot.”

Just then another one of the waitresses walked behind me and I smelled Bonnie’s scent again.

“The perfume that you were given yesterday, and worn by virtually all the partygoers there, is really popular, because someone here is also wearing it. I have a good sense of smell, and sure that I have never come across this perfume before.”

She laughed, “It was one of Shona’s bottles of perfume, that she hadn’t used in years. Don had bought her one at every Christmas, birthday and anniversary for their first five years together and she kept giving the spare ones away to her relatives, which only made Don think she was using it all up. It actually was her most favourite scent, at least that’s what she told me and was happy to share it. She recognised me from the video feed that your friend Mike sent her and looked out her bottle of perfume and shared the information that I was in town with her daughters and cousins. She gave me the last couple of centimetres that was left in the bottom of her last bottle as a souvenir of my visit.”

“Well it suits you. Most of the perfumes that my wife Maggie had used were in your face but Shona’s perfume is ... well, I think it’s lovely and it really works perfectly on you.”

She smiled so sweetly and squeezed my arm that I resolved to compliment her at every turn during the next couple of days, while I could.

“Why, thank you, Knighty, that’s such a nice thing to say. Yes, it is a lovely scent and was actually designed for me by a small perfumery in Paris. A sweet old parfumiere named Henri designed it and it was taken up by one of the bigger beauty supplies companies for general distribution around the world. I was a popular catwalk model at the time and had appeared regularly on the cover of Vogue and was in much demand. I promoted the perfume for a couple of years, launching it around the world, including here in Sydney. It was blanket advertised that first Christmas and proved very popular and it brought in some serious royalties for me for a couple of Christmases and then it all dropped off. I had assumed they didn’t sell it anymore. They must still sell off some old stock here in the shop. Perfume doesn’t really go ‘off’.”

“What’s it called, so we can look it out?”

“It’s simply called ‘Bonnie’, after me.”

“Wow!”, I was shocked, she really must be famous!

“Well, that was when it was launched 16 years ago, it must be marketed under another name by now, under whoever is the latest popular face on the front of the fashion mags,” she laughed, “Which waitress was wearing it?”

I pointed her out and Bonnie called her over. She was a teenage Aboriginal girl, about 16 to 18, but acted younger, being quite shy, both of me and especially Bonnie. She might have been a lot younger, my guess was probably a poor one. Bonnie asked her about the perfume.