Thirteen Pearls (24 page)

Now, my time on Thirteen Pearls seemed unreal, like a scene in a snow dome; a tropical snow dome, with storm debris instead of snow. For a while I'd been all shaken up with it, and then the storm had settled and the whole episode was reduced to a discrete little island-bubble in my life. I thought about how I'd been with Kaito, and saw how I'd never even really given it a chance. Some people are slow to unfold, but maybe the unfolding was worth the wait.

I talked about it with Tash and she reckoned I'd totally blown it. She thought it was better to be realistic about relationships and that Kaito sounded amazing. Unlike Sven. Or Jason. And now that I was back in Cairns, everything that had happened on the island took on the nostalgic glow of mangrove-filtered light. I'd had time to build up a warm melancholy around my brief experience with Kaito and wished I hadn't been so hasty to end it.

I wondered about both the boys. Where they were; how they were doing. Last thing we'd discussed on Thirteen Pearls was that Kaito was going back to Townsville in February and Leon planned to get a job on a fishing trawler off the gulf.

Sometimes, thoughts had a kind of magic, and as Tash and I walked along the Esplanade, I heard the plaintive notes of a flute. A shakuhachi to be precise. My heart skipped a beat. I scanned the street through a throng of tourists.

A slim, dark-haired boy was sitting cross-legged against a shop wall, playing a bamboo flute. A black pearl rested against his chest. My throat tightened and there was a thumping in my gut as we neared. Not butterflies – more like elephants.

Tash grinned and nudged me, as if to say, ‘That guy's checking you out and he 's seriously cute.'

I smiled back, the herd of elephants thundering inside my belly.

Then, from a couple of doors up, from Mr Halabi's kebab shop to be precise, I recognised the casual loping of a boy clutching two falafel rolls.

‘Leon!'

He glanced over, his face lighting up with the grin I remembered so well.

The thumping in my gut transformed into something fluttery and sweet and lighter than air – butterflies.

Leon ran to meet me with effortless, lion-like bounds.

About the Author

Y
EARS AGO,
M
ELAINA
F
ARANDA FOLLOWED
a boy up to the Torres Strait. It didn't work out with the boy, but it did with Thursday Island. She arrived there, penniless and with a single change of clothes, only to be loaned an entire new wardrobe and given three jobs on the first day, including working at the local bakery. Someone gave her a house to live in (there were tiny orange crabs in the outhouse), people took her out fishing and told stories, and a wonderful old islander gave her the same gift Edie receives when she leaves for home. Melaina has since travelled across Australia and throughout the world, with many elements of these journeys finding their way into her novels including The Circle series and
Big Sky
, but she has yet to discover a place where there is more generosity and open-heartedness than that shown by the Thursday Islanders.

Acknowledgements

H
EARTFELT THANKS TO MY EDITOR
with the mostest – Jodie Webster – I'm in love. Thanks also to Bruno Herfst for your great design, especially the pearl chapter feature thingies; I'm in love with you too. And while I'm spreading the love, it's always an honour to work with the wonderful team at Allen & Unwin – I feel blessed.

Hmmm… what is it that drives me to make stuff up for my books, stuff I wouldn't have a clue about – having a character who's building a boat for instance? For info on this, I'm indebted to Paul McRae for setting me straight.