Writers Abroad Magazine Issue 3 September 2015 | Page 29

WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE
“Please, Izzie. You can’t wear heels for a bush shot. The desert boots I prepared
are so cute.”
“Cute! They’re so clunky!”
“But with the khaki shorts and the little shirt you’ll look adorable. Guys dig that too,
you know.” Silence. “Seeing someone in a different light makes them sexier. Like
you’re witnessing something secret.”
A deep sigh. “Only for you, Allegra. Just this once.”
“Tomorrow, too! Now, the tent’s nearly up. Time for the evening shot.”
Izzie stands before the tent and makes love to the camera. “Here in the middle of
this wonderful natural landscape, we’re getting ready for our first night in the bush. I
simply can’t wait for tomorrow!”
“Cut!”
She turns. “OK let’s get out of here. Dinner’s booked at seven, right?”
“Actually,” Allegra intervenes, “I think I’ll stay here.”
There’s general shock but she prevails. The dust from the three retreating jeeps
settles, and she unzips the tent, smiling. For a while, unfamiliar birdsong echoes
through the falling dark and the overhanging vines. Then she lies on the sleeping bag
and listens to the radio.
“Watch out there in Queensland, we’re expecting a big storm tomorrow evening,
coming all the way down the coast. Tie up those boats and don’t leave the chooks
out!”
She turns off the radio and lies back. Strange whirring and cracklings from the bush
echo in the dark. Something hops with a heavy “thump, thump, thump” past the tent.
She closes her eyes.
In the morning the dew dries and the shadows sharpen. Ten o’clock comes and
goes and still no sign of the crew and Izzie. At nearly noon the dust heaves and they
arrive.
“No-one had any of the things we needed. This place is a nightmare.” Izzie thumps
four packets of supermarket-bought kangaroo on the table. Allegra flips though her
folder. “You’re sure you’ve got stock footage of the hunter?”
The cameraman nods. “No probs. Just need a few shots of a few of the little
buggers hopping. We’re good.”
Allegra sets up, chops, lays out, and checks the gas. “Ready.”
It’s midday. There’s a lot of sunscreen and beer and hats and sweat and flies and
ants and misbehaving barbecues and smudged lipstick. Two o’clock. They move near
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