Page 54 of The Island Girls

‘Nobody! But Lydia here would have you thinking every guy at university was after me!’

‘Well, that I can believe,’ Paul said. ‘But I’m glad you never fell under any of their spells.’ He kissed her then, and for Rebekah, the world disappeared for a few moments like it always did when they locked eyes and lips, however briefly.

Lydia left them to enjoy their dessert and coffee, and went to mingle with other guests.

‘She’s lovely – and she’s very fond of you. They all are,’ Paul said, signifying the other rangers and guides who helped guests feel at home in this gorgeous rainforest retreat. ‘They give me the impression that Queensland was sorry to see you go when you left for England – and they’re surprised you’ve stayed solong. Mitchell there was asking me if you’re coming back for good now.’

‘Really? I was only working with them for a short while, after university that is. But I did love my time with them. I’d always intended to go to Poole though – they knew that,’ she said.

‘And how do you feel about staying now? In Poole, I mean?’ he asked her as he ran his spoon around his dessert bowl, licking up every last drop of rich chocolate mousse.

‘It’s so strange, coming back. I do love it here, and the smell of the forest, the birdsong – the family – all of it tells me I’m home. But Brownsea feels like home, too. And you’re in England, Paul, and you feel like home most of all,’ she said and he kissed her again.

‘You feel like my home too,’ he said taking her hand and grabbing a quick breath as if he was about to say something else.

‘Coming to watch the film tonight, you two?’ cried Mitchell from the doorway, not realising what he was disturbing. ‘We’ve got the lyrebird film to show you, in readiness for the dawn walk tomorrow. Starting in five minutes,’ he said, and as Mitchell left the main dining room, Paul sighed and looked a little flustered.

‘We should watch it, and then you’ll know what you’re looking for in the morning – or listening for, more like. It really is something special,’ Rebekah said as she left to freshen up before going into the small dining room that had been set up as a private movie theatre for house guests.

‘Something very special indeed,’ muttered Paul to himself, as he watched the most beautiful woman in the room leave his side.

The dawn walk did not disappoint, and as they crunched stealthily over the humus of the ancient forest floor, the scent ofdamp eucalyptus, fresh after an overnight rainstorm, filled their senses. At first, it seemed all they could hear was the sound of their own footsteps but the guide brought them to a standstill to listen for a moment. Rebekah whispered to Paul, the nearness of her breathy voice in his ear making him shiver and tingle.

‘Can you hear that high-pitched tinkling sound?’ She spoke under her breath, not daring to make a sound.

‘Like bells?’ he asked.

‘Exactly like bells – that’s the bell miner, or bellbird. And if you listen carefully, you can hear another call that sounds similar, but several tones deeper – that’s the eastern yellow robin – we’ll see some soon I expect. They’re not shy.’

‘And the louder sound, like a whip cracking?’ Paul asked, listening intently for a moment.

Rebekah nodded. ‘A whip bird,’ she said.

‘Pretty imaginative with your bird names, aren’t you?’ he joked, and Rebekah struggled not to laugh out loud. She’d already had to deal with him joking about the rainbow lorikeets, so named because they wore so many different colours – a vibrant green back and wings with a cobalt-blue face, orange beak, yellow and orange breast, and a blue belly. When they gathered in a flock to feed from the bright-red bottlebrush flowers in her mother’s backyard, they created a storm of colour like fireworks.

‘Hey,’ she breathed, ‘we’re Australian – we tell it like it is,’ she said and poked him gently in the ribs before they walked on.

The guide indicated they should squat down to wait for a while as he’d heard a lyrebird in this area in the last few days. Rebekah closed her eyes and focused on nothing but the sounds, then she gasped lightly and snapped her eyes open, mirroring the guide’s reaction.

The expression on Paul’s face showed her that he’d recognised the sounds, but only she and the guide knew that he was mistaken.

‘A kookaburra? Whip bird… the king parrot?’ he asked growing confused and knowing Rebekah had taught him all these bird songs in the last few days.

‘Well done. You’re learning fast, but you’re wrong, I’m afraid. All those sounds are being made by the Albert’s lyrebird. It’s a fantastic mimic and often repeats seven or eight different calls – all ones that you would hear in the area. Listen up,’ she whispered, holding up a finger to ask for silence while she concentrated on the forest sounds.

‘There, did you hear that? The deep, rich whistling, and then chirping?’ she said, again so quietly that nobody but Paul could hear her. The guide had raised his hand and indicated to the other walkers that this was their prize – the Albert’s lyrebird. He waited until they all had heard it and then they crept, like soldiers on a secret mission, around the next bend of the forest path until he froze them again.

Rebekah squatted behind Paul and put one hand on his shoulder, her face pinned close to his, cheek to cheek. She pointed into the thick undergrowth towards the flash of some long feathers, determined he would be able to follow her line of sight. Someone behind them stumbled over a rock and the sound was enough to frighten the bird, which froze for a second before running deep into the forest and away from them.

‘Did you see it?’ she asked him, breathlessly.

‘I saw long feathers moving in between the ferns,’ he said, more in question than with confidence.

‘That was it! Not many people get to experience that, you know? You’re a very lucky guy,’ she said, as always, not understanding how incredibly blessed Paul felt to have this rare prize in his life.

After the rainforest retreat, where Rebekah could have stayed for months, and Paul grew fond of hand-feeding the wonderfully tame scarlet and cobalt coloured crimson rosellas, they drove for two days to reach the tropical gateway to the Whitsunday Islands, Airlie Beach. They had booked ahead and arranged a three-day sailing tour around the islands, with snorkelling gear all included.

‘Rebekah, this place is absolute heaven,’ he said as he relaxed in his swimming trunks on the deck of the yacht, eating sliced mango, dragon fruit, and cherries, while sipping a glass of chilled Champagne. They had spent the morning snorkelling on Hook Island Reef and then enjoyed a delicious lunch of cold meats and salad – the routine they’d grown used to over the last two days while they’d been exploring different turquoise waters alive with fish and coral all around the island group.

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