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seemed that even Nicholas
was, too, for he finally turned away, and slowly wandered off,
apparently scanning the undergrowth in search of something. Hiding
his face, when he could, behind the lowered hat brim.
    Dave followed him,
watching him, occasionally glimpsing those pretty pink lips,
slightly parted now in concentration. How strange it was, Dave
pondered, that he’d become so very fixed upon Nicholas’s marvellous
smiles. How very wrong it was to be thinking so much about another
bloke’s mouth …
     
    The quiet of the bush was
calming. A delicious full silence was augmented by the occasional
bell–like chirp of a bird, the bustle of a four–footed creature
carrying on with life unconcerned by these two human intruders.
Dave sighed contentedly. Flora and fauna weren’t his strong suit,
beyond the necessary survival knowledge of what he could eat in an
emergency and what he couldn’t, but he really did love it out here,
in the bush, in the Outback. He loved that, mostly, the flora and
fauna were willing to coexist with him, if he only paid them their
due respect.
    Dry bark crunched under
Nicholas’s footfall, and Dave’s attention was back on him again.
The Englishman was moving slowly, peering about at the lower
shrubs, at the ground, at the sparse grasses – ducking and frowning
now and then, weaving to and fro, until – “There! My first
Australian butterfly.”
    “ What?”
    “ Well, my
first one in the wild, as it were.”
    Dave eased closer,
astonished. “You’re making discoveries already?”
    “ No. Oh, no …
This is just a Cabbage White or one of the Pearl Whites, I should
think. I’ll have to check the field guide.”
    “ What is?”
Dave asked dumbly, looking about for beautiful white wings.
“Where?”
    “ Here.”
Nicholas crouched, and indicated a grub–like casing. “It’s in the
pupa stage. One day, not too far distant, it will break apart, and
the most glorious butterfly will emerge.”
    “ Oh. Oh, of
course.” Dave felt like an idiot. He’d done some research, but then
he’d also felt that the butterflies were Nicholas’s area, and the
organisation and safety of their travel were Dave’s. Apparently his
reading – or, more to the point, his browsing – had gone in one eye
and out the other …
    Nicholas had straightened
up to consider Dave a bit kindly, as if he were to be pitied. “You
know nothing about butterflies, do you?”
    “ They’re
pretty, I know that much.”
    “ Yes, they
are.”
    “ I like the
colours,” Dave babbled, probably not redeeming himself. “When I was
browsing Google images, I liked the blue ones best.”
    Nicholas was nodding
earnestly. “Ours – our butterflies – are going to be gorgeous .
Like bits of the sky come alive.” He took a step closer to Dave,
his hands in the air between them as if trying to shape adequate
words. “But you’re only thinking about their last stage of life.
They transform .”
    “ They do,”
Dave agreed, looking at the pupa, which might as well be an old bit
of stick. “Is that – is that why you’re so interested? In
butterflies, I mean. Because of how they change so
much?”
    “ Sorry …
What?”
    “ I was
just wondering,” Dave blundered on: “ Why butterflies?”
    But Nicholas had taken a step
back, and his long face sobered. It was as if the sun had gone
in.
    All right. Time to change
tack. “D’you want to walk about a bit more?” Dave asked. “Seeing as
we’re out here.”
    A brief nod.
    “ We’ll get the
field guide, eh? Is it in the Cruiser?”
    “ Yes,” was the
quiet reply.
    Dave hardly spoke after
that, not wanting to spoil things any further. They went back and
fetched Nicholas’s satchel which contained his guide, his camera, a
notebook and pens. And then Dave followed around as Nicholas ducked
and weaved, searching around at random, and he kept track of where
they’d left the Cruiser. It didn’t take too long – not even half an
hour, really – before the peace