Page 8 of Between Two Shores

“Stop calling me Waldo.” His tone had a whine to it.

“Well, stop acting like a cartoon character—popping up everywhere, unexpectedly.”

Lachlan bellowed a laugh. “Come on, you two. Knock it off.” He stood and dusted the sand from his shorts.

“She started it.” Wally played the annoying teen well.

Beth gave him a sisterly whack on the shoulder. “No, he did.” She giggled in the most endearing way.

The Quokkas had scattered under a nearby bush. The other tourists huddled around, taking over the scene.

“That, my dear fellows, is the famous Australian Quokka,” Beth said with pride.

“The one I filmed had a joey in its pouch.” Wally held out his phone screen.

“Did not!” Beth tippy-toed, and her eyes widened. “Oh, so cute.”

Lachlan smiled. “You’ve turned into mush over these animals.”

“Now you can see why I want to help them.”

As the next bus approached, Beth rushed her words. “Delay the bus if you can. I’ll be one sec. I wanna zoom in and get a shot of the baby Quokka.” Her ponytail flicked as she ran to the bushes.

Wally shook his head. “She’s something else.”

Lachlan smiled, agreeing. Unique. Sweet. A delight to be around.

They took their time boarding the bus, and sure enough, Beth dashed over just before the doors closed, and jumped onto the metal steps with a thud, huffing away. “Thank you,” she gasped to the driver. He grunted and rolled his eyes.

Back upon the cushioned seats, Beth unfolded her map to a chorus of crinkles. Wally peered over from behind her.

She pointed to stop ten. “Let’s get off at Little Salmon Bay. You guys can go for a snorkel.”

Wally squeezed Beth’s shoulder. “You need to have some fun too. You said you brought your gear.”

Lachlan eyed Wally’s hand, lasering holes in it.

“I am a bit hot after flustering over the Quokkas in the sun.” She folded the map. “There’s an ice cream truck too. That should cool me down.”

Beth stood causing Wally’s hand to drop. “I’m going to chat with the driver. Back soon.”

BETH

Once at the front of the bus, Beth cleared her throat. “It’s a terrible thing about the sick Quokkas. You must be devastated as a local.”

The weathered faced driver glanced over his shoulder. “A shame, all right. Not enough effort has gone into solving the problem.” His voice croaked, sounding like he’d smoked all his life. He veered the bus around a windy road. “They’re cute and all, but if the Quokkas go, there’d be hardly any tourists. The island’s welfare depends on them.”

Beth shifted her weight on her feet, bracing the pole. “So, who’d want to ruin the livelihood of the Islanders?”

The man’s head snapped back, and he scrunched his forehead. “You think someone is killing them on purpose?”

Her throat dried. Could it be true that she’d missed the mark? “Um. It’s a possibility. The pollution excuse doesn’t make sense.”

“Mmmm.” He remained silent as he lowered gears to climb a hill. “Developers wanted to lease from the government. There were hot debates a few months ago. Then it fizzled. But that isn't an excuse to pay out on the innocent Quokkas. I can’t believe that for a moment.”

Beth bit her bottom lip. How to dig for more information? “Developers? They’d make a lot of money transforming the island with fancy hotels and whatnot. Those yellow shacks are outdated.”

He huffed in response. “Adds character, I reckon. The original buildings hold history. Visit the museum. The island once ran as a boys’ reformatory in the eighteen-eighties. A thirteen-year-old who stole cake would get three months confinement.” He shook his head. “Imagine the faces of kids today when the school groups visit. They don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

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