‘I bet it will. Lionel reckons a big box kite would hold a man, and in this wind…well, maybe the wind can work for us rather than against us.’

And at least it was a plan. It was something! Better than sitting waiting helplessly for the body to slip.

Jeff needed no more telling. Like them, he was desperate for action. Any action! He was already reaching for his phone.

‘Great. Let’s move.’


One thing Iluka was good at was mobilising. It was a small community. Most people were indoors because of the filthy weather. Jeff made one call to Chris and in ten minutes the telephonist had organised half the population of Iluka at the river mouth with enough rope to fence a small European country. Plus there were three rubber dinghies, one enormous box kite-Lionel attached-and ten or so men and women standing on the other side of the river.

‘How much weight can that kite hold?’ Joss demanded, and Lionel scratched his chin and looked upward. There wasn’t a trace of his dementia.

‘In this wind? As much rope as you like. I reckon it could lift me.’

‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ Joss told him, and he managed a grin. ‘No, Lionel, I’m not planning to sky-ride on your kite. But I’m depending on it just the same.’

There was a delay of a few minutes while ropes were securely knotted together-a delay where all eyes were on the prone figure sprawled on the island rocks. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this wasn’t worthwhile.

But… ‘I think I saw him move.’ Someone had brought binoculars and Amy was focussing on the yellow waterproofs. ‘I think his hand moved.’ She couldn’t see his face. She could see very little but a mass of yellow.

It was enough. ‘Then we try,’ Joss told her. He’d been deep in discussion with Lionel. Lionel had shed his years like magic and was talking to him as an equal.

Amy was still confused. ‘I don’t know how…’

‘Just watch. Lionel and I have it under control.’ He hesitated and then conceded a doubt. ‘I think.’

The kite was launched. In this weather it was dead easy. Lionel and a couple of his mates simply held it to the wind and it lifted like magic, its huge trail of rope acting as if it were a piece of string. It soared skyward, a dozen men feeding the rope out. Lionel held a lighter string, as if he needed to anchor it to himself.

They needed a stronger anchor than Lionel. They’d fastened the end of the heavy rope to rocks-just in case the men couldn’t hold it. In weather like this they could end up with the kite sailing on to Sydney.

‘How do we get it down?’ Amy asked.

But Joss and Lionel had the operation under control. The kite was over the river now, sailing past the heads of the crowd gathered on the other side. Lionel motioned to the lighter cord he was holding-a cord that on closer inspection turned out to be a loop. ‘We tug hard on this and she collapses,’ he said diffidently. ‘Watch.’

They watched. He pulled the cord and the fastening on the kite came unclipped. The box kite soared upward-next stop Queensland-and the snake of rope and the looping cord crumpled across the river, the ends coiling downward to be seized by the people on the opposite bank.

They had a rope bridge now, with men and women on either end pulling it tight.

‘With teams holding the rope over the island, I reckon I can reach him,’ Joss told them. At Amy’s horrified look he shook his head. ‘I’m not swinging Tarzan style. I might be brave but I’m not stupid. Lionel and I worked it out. I fasten the dinghy using a slider that moves along with me. I loop a slider around my belt and I fasten the dinghy to me. The lighter cord Lionel was holding forms a loop so we can use it as a pulley, with the teams at both ends controlling as I work myself along the heavier rope. Easy. When I reach the rocks I haul whoever he is into the dinghy. I take a couple more ropes with me to make him safe on the way and Bob’s your uncle.’

Amy was just plain horrified. ‘And if you fall in?’

‘I told you,’ he said patiently. ‘I’m attached to the rope and I’m attached to the dinghy. If worst comes to worst I can come back hand over hand-but if it’s all the same to you I’ll stay in the dinghy.’

‘If it’s all the same to me, you’ll stay here.’

‘And let him drown? I can’t do that.’ He stared into her appalled eyes, and something passed between them. Something.

That something was deeper than words. He put out a hand and lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. Their gazes locked for a long, long moment. Someone was looping a rope through Joss’s belt but he had eyes only for Amy.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You’d better be.’ Her voice was choked with emotion and he thought, What the hell-if he was going to be a hero, surely he was allowed to kiss a fair maiden?

In truth he didn’t feel all that brave.

But he was here. The body on the rocks was about to be swept out to sea. The average age of those around him was about seventy or maybe older-even the policeman was over sixty-so he was the youngest man there by almost thirty years.

And he knew damned well that if he didn’t go then it’d be Amy who roped herself to the dinghy. She was accustomed to taking the weight of the world on her shoulders.

This time it would be him. If this was all he could do for her-then so be it.

He had no choice.

He bent and he kissed her, a swift demanding kiss that was more about grounding himself, somehow, making sense of what he was about to do.

A month ago, maybe he would have thought what he intended was madness-risking himself for someone who might even now be dead. But Amy was watching him with eyes that shone. Amy was holding him. Amy’s mouth was pliant and soft under his and she knew what he was doing. She might hate it but she expected it because he knew without doubt that if he didn’t go then she would.

Amy, who gave her all.

He…loved her?

Now was not the time for such crazy thinking. Now was the time to put her away from him and loop the rope at his waist around the massive rope that now swung across the river.

They were waiting for him.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. He gently put his hands on Amy’s shoulders and put her away from him. It was like a physical wrench.

As it was for Amy. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek-one fleeting touch-and then stood back.

Her life had been about hard choices and she knew more than most that Joss didn’t have a choice at all.

He had to go.

There was nothing for her to do but watch.

The dinghy was fastened to the stronger cable so it couldn’t be pulled off course, and they’d attached the dinghy to the looping lighter line so those on either side could pull. Joss, therefore, had only to keep his little craft stable.

It was easier said than done. The water was a maelstrom of surging surf. He lay back in the boat to give him maximum stability, his hands holding the thicker cable as he was pulled carefully, inch by inch, across the river. Each time a breaker surged he stopped and concentrated on keeping the boat upright. It was a mammoth task.

A couple of times the breakers almost submerged the boat but Joss emerged every time. He’d done his preparation well. The two teams had control of the boat as much as they could, and Joss was attached to the boat and to the cable. He had the best chance…

He just had to keep upright.

Amy’s heart was in her mouth. There wasn’t a word from the team on her side. Joss’s father was here-he was head of the team feeding out rope after the dinghy, helping to guide it. Daisy was in the team holding the main cable. Margy and Harry Crammond were here, and with a shock Amy recognised at least eight inmates from her nursing home.

They might be old but when there was work to be done they weren’t backward in coming forward.

They were her people.

She loved them so much. She looked out to where Joss was fighting the waves and the impossibility of what she was thinking broke over her yet again. She was falling in love-no, she’d fallen in love-but her choice was bleak indeed.

No. She had no choice. Her place was here, with her people. Joss belonged to another place. Not Iluka.

He was not her man.

But…dear God, she loved him.


All Joss could think of was staying afloat. Of staying alive. But he wasn’t alone.

The teams on either side were manoeuvring his boat, trying as best they could to keep it steady as they inched it toward the island. He was alone, but not alone.

They had another dinghy and he didn’t need to be told that if he fell someone else would try.

Maybe Amy…

No! He had to reach the island.


Somehow he did. The dinghy reached the island just as the waves had backed off. Those holding the ropes had timed it brilliantly. He unfastened himself-even that was hard-and stepped out onto solid rock. The boat was immediately dragged away. For a moment he panicked-but only for a moment. Of course. They’d drag it away from the rocks to keep it from being punctured. Another wave broke and he had to kneel and cling to keep a foothold.

As the wave receded, he looked up. The figure was still sprawled face down on the rocks. As Joss scrambled to reach him, he stirred and moaned.

He was alive!

Just. He’d come close to drowning, Joss guessed. His eyes were glazed and not focussing. He was barely conscious.

Joss worked fast. The guy was trying to breathe but it was shallow and laboured. Was the airway clear? Carefully he manoeuvred the injured man onto his side, conscious all the time of the damage he could do himself. It was no use making the man’s breathing easier if he destabilised a fractured neck in the process.

Another wave surged but the man’s head was just above the water line. Joss moved his own body to take the brunt of the wave’s force. The guy muttered and groaned again.