Nature Boy.... Jost Van Dyke Island.

"What should we do today?" I asked Terry, as we were lying on the deck reading, alone for once.

"Fancy going ashore and doing a bit of a hike?" He asked me, from behind the pages of his book. I looked up and watched him as he read, lying back in a reclining chair, his right arm behind his head and his eyes scanning the page. Terry is a speed-reader and absorbs information very quickly; he is the most acutely intelligent man I have ever known and yet he wears his knowledge lightly, just like all his skills. They are things that he takes for granted, the aids to what he does, not the mark of what he is.

He looks so well; so different from the ashen-faced man I had met in Spain a few weeks before who looked broken and exhausted, back to being the King of Pain, wracked with bitter self-knowledge and loneliness, steeped in failure and missed opportunities. Now he was the other Terry, relaxed and confident, at peace with himself and the world, full of ideas for the future and able to trust enough to let another human being close enough to share his soul. He looked up and smiled vaguely, his eyes crinkling and tender; it spins my heart into confusion to know that I make him feel this way.

"Don't fancy roughing it for a day? Just a thought," he muttered and returned to his page.

"No...I think it's a great idea...let's do it. Give me a bit of the rough stuff, soldier boy. Route march over the island with my favourite Outward Bound instructor. Put me through my paces...I know...the SAS selection test - the one where you have to survive in the wilds with a piece of elastic and the tube of a ballpoint pen or something..."

"You'd never even get out of the plane, love- you have to jump. Plus we were given proper survival equipment...but it didn't include emergency gin and repair makeup kit, surprisingly...or hand cream and rubber gloves..."he smirked.

"Hey...I'm not that bad! Do you know I have a Duke of Edinburgh Gold award?"

"I am amazed...didn't know they gave them out for scaling Harrods without a limit on your credit card."

"Shut up...I did a three day hike in the fucking Cairngorms, abseiled, swam the Menai Straits...you don't know what I can do, actually. I just do not like heights or creepy crawlies or snakes (except one-eyed trouser snakes like yours) or rats (except Bud's)..."

"Or getting your hair wet...or getting dirty...or breaking a nail..."

"OK...challenge accepted. Survivor...12 hours of activity trekking on the island. You and me. Guarantee I will keep up with you."

"No whining. If you whine I will gag you. Is that understood?"

"Affirmative, Captain!" I jumped up and grabbed my belongings.

"Where are you going now?"

"To get ready. I'll have to think about what I need to wear."

Terry groaned and settled back with his book. "Might make it to shore by morning then," he muttered.

I shrugged and ran back to the cabin. I was like lightening. I donned a loose pair of cotton pants, a vest and shirt, cap, trainers and...cut my nails. I am so dedicated when I want to be. By the time I was ready, Terry sauntered back down to the room, changed into a pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt, Timberland boots and a light blue shirt, delving into his hand luggage to emerge with a rather lethal looking knife and a compass.

"Wow! You gonna bring a gun as well?" I asked my eyes widening as he stuck the knife into the belt of his pants and filled his pockets with a few odd bits of things, first aid equipment, phone and matches.

"This is a walk... not the Raid on Entebbe..." he replied but I did notice that he slipped one of his handguns into a pocket in his pants. I knew why- nothing to do with our little expedition. Terry never really trusts that he might not be a target for something- he will never take the chance that he might not be prepared. I often wonder what the cost of that is for a man like him- and the fear he must carry that those close to him could be drawn in. I cannot tell you what I know; his confidences are rare and must never be betrayed. He feels a weight of many things that are not really his guilt - but he still carries the cross.

We called for the launch and rode the gauntlet of the rest of them who were all in lazy swimming and lounging-about mood. They wanted to know where we were going. I said 'walk'...snorting all round. I smiled but didn't take the bait; Terry didn't either, putting on his inscrutable face and helping me down the ladder, throwing in a small rucksack before shimmying down after it. I love to watch him move- he has such physicality and grace. It is his quiet strength and the latent power that his alert control exudes that fascinates me. I feel eternally safe with him, cocooned from anything that can hurt me, even while I struggle to contain my fears for him. He will never take the safe path or the quiet life; I have to accept that walking hand-in-hand with danger is his natural way.

A warm wind blew in my face as we speeded along to the small island jetty. Terry chatted to the sailor who piloted it, his usual friendly manner, but he was also gathering information about weather and tides and anything the man knew of the island. People always open up to Terry although he rarely appears to be pumping them for facts. I trailed my hand in the clear water and let my mind wander aimlessly, simply basking in the sweetness of the moment. I just want to be with him. Nothing else.

At the jetty, he hoisted me to the wooden walkway, hands on my hips, and jumped off himself, swinging the rucksack on one shoulder and slipping his free arm around my shoulder. We wandered lazily down towards the little shantytown. Unlike some of the places we had visited, Jost Van Dyke was no upmarket five-star resort. It was the opposite- scruffy chic...ethnic cool....run down bars and boarding houses with laid back owners and the clientele who regarded themselves as real travellers, those who sought out the authentic 'experience'. You fall over them in droves in Asia, hanging round, acting like world travellers but as given to thronging in the safe pack of people like them as much as any package tourist is.

Strolling into a bar, we ordered grilled fish and rice, a glass of lime juice and sat quietly planning our route with a small OS map that Terry had somehow got hold of. A man watched us from the bar and then came over, a bottle of beer in his one hand, a roll-up clamped to his fingers. He was about forty, long straggly beard and his hair in tiny plaits. I groaned inwardly- a refuge from 'The Rough Guide to Blagging'. I sat back and watched Terry handle him.

"Just in? Off that yacht in the 'arbour? Didn't expect any of you lot to beach 'ere. A bit off your comfort zone, innit?" He was English, a Londoner, that patronising fake East End type- you knew he was probably from some leafy middle class suburb and just dropped his aitches to sound blasé and world weary.

Terry looked at him, no expression and just nodded. 

"You going exploring? Watch your track, son, you need to know what you're doing on an island like this...not for the city boys..." Hippie Prat smirked.

"Thanks for the advice, mate." Terry replied with a slight smile.

"Australian, 'ey? Fancy yourself as the outdoor type?" The guy cackled and dragged on his joint. "Want a draw, man?" He held the cigarette out to Terry. He shook his head.

"No, mate, I prefer to swap saliva with people who have oral hygiene, and conversation with those who have brains," he spoke quietly but his authority was clear.

"Bit of a hard man, are we?" 

"That's right. Want to make something of it?" He gave a look, eyes hooded and amused, but glinting with warning. It made me shiver.

"Hey...lighten up...I get the message..." the bloke stood up and walked away, returning to the bar to slump onto a barstool and watch us from a safe distance. Terry ignored him.

"I don't like the look of him. He looks like a creep," I observed as we waited for our lunch.

Terry grinned. "Jesus...he's after drinks and maybe a few dollars. There are more dangerous people in this room than him." I looked about at the locals and the collection of travellers. I wondered whom he meant and what he had noticed. I realised how naïve I really was.

The owner of the bar, a bluff, hearty man, served us the meal and asked a few questions; I noticed Terry's cool politeness- he did not encourage too much conversation directed at himself. It must be a habit of a lifetime, hardly necessary here, but sometimes I wondered whether he was reading much more into a situation than I could; perhaps there were other reasons for his reluctance to sit and chat.

A short while later, the bar owner Jake, launched into an impromptu song, strumming on his guitar. He sang to the tune of The Girl from Ipanema.

 

 

I was absolutely delighted at the song, clearly addressed to me. I put down my fork and clapped, smiling broadly at his compliment. Terry said nothing, smiled distantly and went on eating.

"Wasn't that fun!" I trilled.

"Yeah...bet he sings that to all the girls." Terry replied, appearing a little annoyed.

"You mean thing...honestly, you are such a stiff! He was just being friendly!"

"Right...my mistake. I thought he was being a bloody annoying bastard."

"Perhaps you'd have preferred a song about you?" I teased.

He looked up and took a swig of his beer. "I think even Whistling Boy would have known better than that. He might have had his voice box removed without benefit of anaesthesia..."

I gaped at that. "Sometimes you are so aggressive. That is so bloody Australian!"

"What is?"

"That macho tendency and the mockery. You have a singularly warped sense of humour, you lot. I can imagine you and your mates at school making fun of any nice lad who was a bit soft..."

"What- a big girl's blouse? Type of sad bastard who opts for cookery or joins the choir? Too fucking right, mate. And that's enough from you, Sheila," he grinned.

"You sound like... Barry Mackenzie...or those Castlemaine XXXX adverts. You know the one with the guy who's shagging his best friend's wife in the outback homestead. She offers him a beer after they've done the nasty. He sees a piccie of his mate and storms off, ripping fastened the zipper on his pants so loud it frightens the animal life. "Jeez, Sheila...he's my bessie mate...take his beer? No way.

Terry laughed. "He's got a point there, love. Almost as good as the one where the clapped out truck, loaded with XXXX bottles, is about to break its suspension under the weight..." At this point he broke off laughing. "So Bruce, he says to Sheila: 'Sorry, love, the bottle o'sherry's gotta go.' And he slings the one fucking bottle of cheap sherry and drives off with the truck full of Castlemaine. Now that's a decent, right-on Aussie bloke, in my opinion."

I raised my eyes. "Well, you sure are pussy-whipped, then...your beer would go before my gin any day, mate." He admitted his shame- he couldn't control his woman. But despite his relaxed mood, he was watching and keeping people at a distance. I have seen him do this before; Terry prefers anonymity if he is amongst strangers.

After lunch we made our way out of town and followed the road into the interior, up a steep incline that began the route to the summit of the island. It was fiercely hot, a brilliant blue sky burning. I took off my shirt and tied it round my waist, Terry stopped and waited for me and then went on with me following behind.

"You OK? Not too hot?" He called back.

"Fine but yeah, I'm hot...how come you look so cool?"

"I'm not, I'm as hot as you. But I don't think about it. That's the secret. You accept your surroundings - they are what they are and you adjust your behaviour and clothing accordingly. First lesson of survival...and then don't think about it. More you do, the more uncomfortable you feel."

We walked on a while longer, the path still climbing steeply, but the views behind us worth it. I could see the small bay, the sun dappling off the azure waters, the strip of white sand beach and the yacht basking like a jewel in its golden setting. "It is gorgeous, Terry...look at that!"

He stopped as I walked up to him, pulled me against him and ran his arms around my waist. "Some view, hey? I just love it when you leave the world behind and get out above it all. Doesn't matter where you are- this kind of paradise or an urban wasteland- there's beauty in it all, once you stand apart and look down on the whole. No matter how many individual flaws exist, the bigger picture is always breathtaking in majesty."

"Wow...that's an amazing thought...but so true. We get bogged down in the minutiae of life, the trivia, and we forget the whole greater scheme of things. You and me...we're the best examples of that. Or were. Reckon we've got a handle on what's important now?" I asked.

He cleared his throat and looked far away his chin on my head. "I hope so. I believe so. All the signs are there. But...when we get back, things are going to have to be different. Work will place a pressure on us both..."

"And there's the house to sort out..." I reminded him. We stood in silence for a while and both contemplated the coming months. "But, it will be an adventure, Terry, we'll be together and building something for ourselves. That's the bigger picture. We'll never forget that again."

"Well, I won't...and I can't see you allowing that to happen...come on, let's get a move on...hit the forest..." He smiled, a little enigmatically, as we recommenced our climb.

Turning our back on the panoramic view of the bay, I followed Terry as he trod a path through the cool shade of the jungle. As soon as we entered, we stepped into a different world, light was dappled and shadowy, the thick canopy above shutting out all but a trickle of sunlight. The temperature changed- no longer were we burning hot, but the air within was still damp and humid- we felt as sticky and uncomfortable as before. The place rang with the silence of the forest- a deceptive quiet that echoes with the background buzz of insects and bird calls, animals shrieks and the snap and rustle of leaves and branches. But to human ears, it seems deadly still and tranquil despite the living mass of flora and fauna contained within.

I am a very nervous person in jungle and usually avoid it like the plague. My eyes scan the ground and the trees for the telltale slither of a snake, my feet stomp to alert any deaf, blind or otherwise impaired dangerous creature that I am here and it better not come near me. However with Terry a few steps ahead, I felt more at ease than I have ever felt before; I was pretty close to relaxed.

"Just like out on jungle manoeuvres, I could be one of the boys!" I giggled. Terry stopped, lit a cigarette and then held it to my ankle.

"Ouch! What you doing?" I gasped.

"Leech. Burning it off. Keep your eyes open for them or you'll be covered in blood spots. And no...you are nothing like one of the boys. Briggsie would have canned you before we left the bar."

"Briggsie?" I asked curiously.

"Briggs. Regimental Sergeant Major Ronald Briggs. Hardest fucker I ever knew. Took us on jungle ops in Kalimantan for 12 weeks. Christ...nearly killed me. Lost two stones in weight. Covered in bites, sores, infected cuts- and I was in good nick compared to some. I once saw Briggsie bite the head off a snake for a dare. What an animal!" But the way he said it, he sounded impressed, shaking his head in glee.

"Was that in the Australian army?" I asked.

"No...British...we'd just joined the Regiment. Cocky little bastards, thought we knew it all. All of us selected best of our original outfits...breezed through selection...I'd just got a degree in two years in Languages and Psychology, thought I was the dog's ballocks. He took us for six months and I came out of it a different man. Broke you down and built you up in his own image. Fucking head case but the best fucking soldier I ever met. Bar none."

"How old were you?" I asked, trying to picture a younger wet-behind-the-ears Terry.

"Twenty three." Younger than Jeff...a bit older than Johnny...maybe like East, hair shaved short and amazing young body...

"Do you keep in touch? It'd be great to meet him," I asked. "Bet he's a real character."

"Briggsie? No...copped it in the Gulf." He shook his head sadly. 

"Why'd you go on Jungle training? Thought you were a marksman."

"Sniper. No need for euphemisms, love. Had to do it all on basic...boat troop, mountain, Alpine, jungle, desert...then you get selected.  I was put in Close Combat Brigade and we did it all- not like the soft boys who stick with one unit." There was a wealth of fact he wasn't saying about how successful he had been; few men in the world are capable of selection to CCB.

All this time we had been strolling along and I realised that I had stopped worrying about getting bitten and attacked and was fascinated just listening to his reminiscences. I love hearing about his army days, because, despite the awful scars he carries from the experience, it was also the time in his life when he felt most alive. He enjoyed it. It was what he could do better than anyone else - while everything else in his life seems to have been a failure or a disaster. His relationship with his parents, his marriage, Terry as a father, his love life - those aspects of his life seem to have been doomed to unhappiness and regret. But not his military career- that is one of triumph and honour even if it is the cause of why everything else went wrong. But he clings to that time as the driving force in his life- the purpose that he is here for. I hope he has a new purpose now.

We were deep in the forest now, still heading up but a long way from the main track. At one point, Terry put his hand over my mouth and pointed. Ahead was a pair of the most beautifully arrayed parrots I have ever seen, perched on a tree, their jewelled markings in vivid contrast to the variegated green of the background. We watched them preen and groom until they fluttered off like rainbow clouds across the valley.

At last I was seeing the bigger picture - and it was Terry who was enabling me to do so.

Not much further along the path, he said, "Wait here. Just for a moment." And before I could respond, he disappeared as silently and swiftly as a serpent slithers out of sight. I found myself alone and the quiet of the place seemed suddenly more sinister, as if a thousand unseen predators were watching me. The familiar feeling of panic began to surface but I pushed it away. Terry was nearby; I was safe.

Time passed...much more than the moment he had said...perhaps ten minutes. I ventured to call his name, my voice sounding hollow and thin in the vast forest. No answer. Curious now, I stepped into the trees at the point where he had vanished and tried to follow a short distance, unsure whether it might not be a better idea to remain exactly where he had left me. He would be angry if I strayed. But just as I was about to turn back, I saw something on a tree. It was one of the ship's coasters, from the bar. The round drinks mat was skewered on a tree with an arrow pointing ahead. Fascinated, I began to follow his trail.

It took a great deal of concentration- the mats were so easy to miss in the dense foliage and I was aware that I had to be observant for other hazards; my eyes and ears were on constant alert. But slowly I began to uncover this hare and hound trail, each mat numbered so I knew that I was not going in circles.

What was this about? And then I realised- he had been planning this ever since I sent the fake dossier squealing on his high treason. I had thought his knicker caper was his revenge but that had just been a smokescreen; he was after me alone now. Trust him to think big and me to fall even bigger for it - God, he is so good at this! Smiling to myself, I raised my speed and began almost skipping- he had gone to all this trouble just to show me 'Who's boss'. As if he didn't know that already.

Just then I stumbled, put my hand out and grabbed the nearest tree. A brilliant bright green tree snake was curled inches above my resting place and the impact of my movement must have disturbed it- it slithered away further up the trunk. I shivered and jumped back, but found another mat and was on my way.

Finally, after a trek of maybe an hour, I found myself, exhausted, thirsty but feeling fairly exhilarated as the tree cover began to thin out and I realised I had neared the summit. There was the twelfth coaster, stuck on to a protruding knot in a tree trunk...and it contained two words.

I listened. Sure enough there was a distant splash of water, a constant sound, somewhere over to my left. I tiptoed quietly in the direction until it became louder and I realised that it was a waterfall. Pushing through the trees, I found the clearing and the source of the splashing- an over hanging rock near the crest of the island, with a torrent of water pouring into a tiny pool, a hidden gem of dark cool water in the heart of paradise.

I stepped out and looked around in wonderment at such a spot, like a second Shangri-La. How had he known? Making my way to the water's edge I looked about until I saw the final card...number 13.

I did not need a second invitation. Slipping out of my clothes, I waded in- it was deep but clear, the water pure and fresh, so welcome after the sweaty climb. I plunged beneath the water and swam the length of the pool to surface on the rocks by the cliff face. And then I saw him - he was sitting behind the curtain of the waterfall. I pulled myself out and walked through the powerful torrent into the comparative quiet of the cave behind.

"Terry! What are you up to?" I laughed.

"Got you?" He grinned back.

"I'm not sure...if this was a scam then it's the best one ever. I had so much fun and this place is sensational...how can that be playing a trick on me?" I giggled.

Terry shrugged. "Wasn't sure if you would cope. You were always in sight, Tink...I was only just ahead. I wouldn't have really left you alone..."

"I know that. I felt safe...I knew you were there somewhere. I trusted you. I always trust you. You wouldn't leave me in danger." I said.

"Simple as that, hey? You trust me anywhere?"

I nodded. He seemed to grimace, looking down at the ground

"Then you just got me back... I shouldn't have pulled that stunt. It was playing on your belief in me. That wasn't fair."

I came over to him, dripping and naked...knelt down on the floor and lifted up his head. "You didn't play on my belief. You were there. I never doubted it, nor do I now. Good get, Terry, it could have been so much more painful after the stunt I pulled! Now...let's swim...you are so hot and sweaty...the water is lovely..."

I stood up and pulled him to his feet, while he kicked off his boots, and  I undressed him slowly. He simply let me, his hands on my face and his eyes sweet and moist. Naked we both stood in the shower of the waterfall, feeling its powerful surge rain down upon us and then we slipped back into the pool, diving deep to plumb its depths.

It was hard to see beneath the waters, little light available to illuminate the gloom. Terry stayed close and followed me until we surfaced gasping for air and shaking the water from us. Our laughter rang through the silent glade.

He pulled me close, I wrapped myself around him and we hung suspended, the towering mountain and the cascade above us framed by forest, the deep water beneath. It felt like we were the only two people in the world- Adam and Eve before the snake- naked and innocent in their own Eden. I held on to him and lay my head on his shoulder; he nuzzled into my neck. I had a sudden picture of staying there and never leaving, just him and me forever in this little paradise. It was a ridiculous notion - that I, Miss City Girl, should even think it! But it will be a fantasy I return to - of that I am quite sure. Deep in the forest, wrapped in his arms, swimming weightlessly in clear mountain water, his words of love whispered in my ear.

He helped me from the water, jumped out, shook himself like a large Labrador, all bronzed and golden brown and pulled me back into the cave. Opening his backpack, he pulled out some fruit and chocolate, a bottle of water and we sat cross-legged on the stones, air-drying as we snacked, stealing glances, smiles and teasing. He reached over to brush a smudge of melted chocolate from my face and the moment he touched me, we simply came together, eyes locked and desire radiating from us.

We fell to our knees on the rocky ground, oblivious to pain or discomfort, lips cushioning any other sensation, as I tasted his mouth still sweet from fruit and chocolate. He lifted me on to his lap, straightened his legs beneath me until we sat entwined and I stroked his cock as it nestled between our writhing bodies. Hitching I raised myself to guide it to my entrance, a deep cavern behind a curtain of creamy moisture. He pushed straight in until we were deeply joined and, holding me close, he fucked me slowly while we kissed and touched, tongues searching each other's features for our favourite tastes- the warm wet mouth, the sensitive ears, the soft flesh of a neck, the rough stubble of his cheeks grazing me raw.

I opened my eyes and stared at the trees and sky above, my body arching back as he kissed my breasts and continued to thrust in and out, his hands now firmly on my hips and ramming me back against him, his breathing heavy, grunts replacing the words of love. It was as if we were part of nature, soft, primal sounds added to the soundtrack of life. We were just animals rutting in the wild, responding to our senses, watched by countless other life forms. The cycle of life. The wheel. The purpose of our humanity.

Suspended in his arms, I called out to the forest as I came, my body shaking like a tree hammered by a tropical downpour, as he groaned his coming deep within me. And still he held me as I slumped against him and wrapped my legs even tighter round to whisper in his ears and play with his hair as his breathing steadied and he returned to me. For a long while we just sat wound round each other, just glorying in the closeness and the silence. But the day was moving on and Terry would never be caught with his pants down, metaphorically or otherwise.

"It's getting late,"he whispered in my ear "...We have to start the descent...you wouldn't want to be here at twilight," he observed, checking his watch.

"We didn't reach the summit!" I answered unwilling to let him or the experience go.

"I think we did, sweet girl, leastways I did," he smiled and pulled me back to the water where he cupped his hands and scooped up water, washing us both clean of the signs of our lovemaking. We seemed to be mingling the gift of our essence in the rich soup of nature of that jungle.

Dressed and holding his hand, he led me back, surefooted and unwavering, able to retrace his steps without a compass. The walk back must have taken us about two hours - it was almost six as we reached the jetty and looked for the launch. Jack and Ann were there- they must have spent the day on the beach- and Jack was pacing, eager to return to the ship, aware that we were still ashore.

"Look lively, man...we haven't all night!" Jack shouted as we jogged up and Terry lifted me aboard.

"Where were you? We thought we might catch you at lunch and then on the beach...but you disappeared," Ann asked.

"We went for a walk up the mountain, "I replied. "It was a kind of nature trail." I looked at Terry and his eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

"Must be tired. It was a very hot day," Ann observed.

"Yeah...tired and happy. Just the way you should be at the end of a long day in the sun. I think we'll give the fun a miss tonight. Shower, quick dinner and an early night. What does that sound like, Tez?"

"Suits me, love...need my beauty sleep," his voice was amused and they all grinned.

"Did I put you through your paces, Thorney? Reckon Briggsie would be proud of me?" I whispered as the launch skimmed over the waves back to the ship.

"Briggsie would have left you lost in the forest. He couldn't abide women on active, a bit like Jacko afloat. He used to say to me 'you're too fond of the girlies, Thorne. They'll ruin a lad like you. Next thing you'll be married with a troupe of sprogs and your career up the Khyber, mark my words...'"

I grinned. "He got that wrong anyway...well, apart from the bit about the girlies...bet you were an absolute rogue at twenty three..."

Terry stretched back and eyed me up. "Come back to my bunk, love, and I'll show you my grenade launcher...that always got them going..." he giggled.

The launch reached the ship at that moment and prevented me from answering. But I guess you already know what I would have said. There's something about a soldier...

 

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