Arafura: Blood, the Wet and Tears

By Susan Lattwein

Sensible schoolteacher Kat is planning to marry whenever her long-term fiancé finds the time. When the enigmatic and unpredictable Adam arrives in Darwin, Kat is jolted well out of her comfort zone, and it doesn’t help that her wayward hips are determined to unite with Adam’s.
Despite loyal intentions and a corpse suspiciously connected to Adam and his traumatic military past, he and Kat must first wrestle with their emotionally fraught, instant attraction.
Arafura will appeal to female and male readers who enjoy mystery and romantic suspense with dark edges—and a few laughs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Lattwein
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310107337

Susan Lattwein

Susan lives in Australia's bush capital, Canberra, with her husband and two terriers - nicknamed Villain and Varmint (the latter replacing poor Critter). She's also blessed with two wonderful, inspiring daughters—both much easier to parent, toilet train and take for walks... She released her first romantic suspense novel ARAFURA - Blood, the Wet and Tears in 2012, and ARAFURA - Unfinished Business in 2014; both to 5 star reviews on Amazon. The series, set in Darwin, is about a schoolteacher who must grapple with the impact of PTSD on the man she won’t allow herself to love. He’s a military man with a past, and that past comes back to haunt both of them. The second novel has more action than she expected; accompanied by sex, dynamite, and hilarity – thankfully not always at the same time. Her short story On The Inside was published in the Pure Slush story serial Don't Kill Me, I'm In Love (2015). Window to the Soul was also chosen in 2015 for submission to the SA Writers Centre Lit Bulb Festival. In between teaching, Susan is currently writing the third novel in the ARAFURA series. Because words are fun..

Book preview

ARAFURA

Blood, the Wet and Tears

Susan Lattwein

Genre – Romance, suspense.

(NOT suitable for younger readers)

Arafura – Blood, the Wet and Tears

Copyright 2012 by Susan Lattwein

First published: 18 November 2012

Smashwords Edition: September 2016

ISBN: 978-0-646-59225-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The characters in this novel are fictitious, as are all events and incidents. Except Darwin—its gritty, tropical magic is real.

Cover design by Annie Seaton

Cover photo by Louise Denton – Darwin Lightning

ARAFURA – Blood, the Wet and Tears

Some 5-star reviews on Amazon…

"You know it’s going to be a great read when it hooks you right from the start. Humour, romance, suspense. Couldn’t put it down. Didn’t put it down! Arafura left me wanting to find out what happens to the characters.

Bring on the sequel!" Susan C. Forbes

"Well, if only women can enjoy this tale, I need to get my oestrogen levels checked, because I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'll admit I wouldn't normally pick a book like this, but I'm glad I strolled outside of my comfort zone.

I enjoyed the humour, the location and the characters…hell, what isn’t there to like about this book? Two thumbs up!" Ben Brown – multi award winning sci-fi author

Arafura is a fun mix of romance, action and good hearty laughs that kept me reading past bedtime. The characters draw you into the story while giving you an interesting glimpse into life in far north Queensland, Australia. I'm ready for the sequel... Rachel

Part murder mystery, part adventure and part romance, Arafura BWT is set in Darwin, Australia. Besides the intriguing plot, the novel is well written and we get to feel this place with its lush coconut palms, private gardens and offshore tropical breezes. As well, Susan Lattwein is very good at using the senses. Carol Balawyder

Contents

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Sample of sequel - ARAFURA - Unfinished Business

About The Author

Connect with Susan

Acknowledgements and list of songs

Recipes from the book

Please note: NT.GOV.AU recommends only swimming in designated areas in Litchfield National Park in Darwin, i.e. Jumping off waterfalls is not safe!

Part One

Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia

1

Strangers shouldn’t appear in your dreams until you’ve met them in real life.

It’s not polite.

***

Hey, Pumpkin. Who’s that gawking at our house?

Kat glanced up from her weekend paper to find Lucas peering down their driveway. Her fiancé’s cropped, sandy hair bristled to attention in the sunshine, his eyes narrowing to return the stranger’s stare.

She peeled herself from the bony ribs of the cane lounge and followed Lucas’s gaze through lush palms to the street-front. The man in the distance was above average height, well-dressed, hands in pockets - and in no hurry to move on.

She shrugged, the oppressive, tropical heat sapping her curiosity.

No idea, Lucas. A real estate guy? Seventh Day Adventist?

Steam from sodden, sun-soaked bitumen pervaded her nostrils. The muggy air was solid, like breathing through a warm washcloth. Yet Kat shivered as if someone had just walked over her grave, the pathetic breeze from overhead fans prolonging the sensation. She gave herself a shake and rearranged her stiff legs, one foot narrowly missing an empty wine glass.

Theirs was a comfortable silence, punctuated by the creaks and twangs of the corrugated-iron roof above them. Lovebirds in an invisible cage, Kat and Lucas understood and accepted each other’s preferences, moods and foibles. So it had been for the last number of years, their complacency now beyond question.

The sticky atmosphere engulfed the two readers, a vaporous apathy with an iron grip, like a dead man’s hold on his weapon. It was a typical afternoon in the far north before the monsoon season.

Kat returned to the newspaper, ignoring the stranger and the thunder—now rumbling above her like a god dragging his hammer. She was too sensible to believe in signs and omens, especially in dreams.

***

2

Kat sat bolt-upright, her heart hammering from an ear splitting clap of thunder right above the house.

She closed her eyes, chasing the remaining threads of the dream, like snatching at shells before waves claim them back to the sea. Feelings of being on her verandah, evocative and purposeful, now ebbed from her consciousness.

Annoying.

Massaging her temples, she collected her thoughts.

School day?

Yes.

Glancing over, the light through the window was still muted. Music played from the radio in the lounge room, enticing her out of slumber. She yanked the top sheet aside, almost twisting her ankle on a pile of books as she got out of bed.

Shoot! She’d forgotten about marking her students’ work in bed the night before.

Kat limped across wooden boards to inspect the weather from floor-to-ceiling louvre windows. She widened the glass louvres to peer up at black, turgid clouds through the garden jungle. An acrid waft of fruit bat overlaid the smell of moist, rich earth. Parrots warbled and squawked nearby, deep in conversation. The driveway was empty, so Lucas must have already gone to work.

The dream left Kat with a melancholic longing but no recall, so she grabbed a fresh towel. Showering would give her time to regain full consciousness and mull over the day’s lessons.

Ten minutes later a favourite song pumped its irresistible beat from the stereo. In front of the mirror, in bra and undies, Kat swayed her hips to the music. After a few, hesitant moves she gave up and made a face at her reflection, likening herself to a failed pole dancer. Even Lucas’s socks and underwear, sorted and arranged with military precision on the open shelves of their walk-in wardrobe emanated disapproval.

Kat applied sunscreen to her face and arms, her skin creamy yet tanned despite good intentions to protect it from the sun. Her step-sister, Lily, had accused Kat of smearing on sunscreen and moisturiser as if it was butter on a chook before roasting. "When the Cancer Council recommends to, ‘Slip-slop-slap,’ she told Kat, you don’t have to take it literally!"

Soon Kat felt comfortable in her work clothes, a camel mid-calf skirt, blue school shirt and low-heeled leather sandals. She brushed dark honey hair into a ponytail, lightened in places from chlorine and the harsh northern sun, and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Self-doubt and annoyance lingered over her gauche dancing as she scraped peanut butter onto sourdough toast. Kat had loved dancing classes with Lily when they were young—even into adolescence. How had she developed two left, webbed feet, in plaster casts? She looked at the crust in her hand and dropped it on her plate.

Since Lucas had proposed, ages ago, her soul felt anchored but sometimes uncomfortably so, as if weighed down. It was surely normal to feel some trepidation before embarking on the next, important cycle of one’s life. Unbidden, her inner voice posed another question.

Will marrying Lucas subdue the feeling that there might be more, like that dream?

As she topped up her tea with boiling water, Kat reassured herself it was just unrequited travel-lust. Easily fixed, with a honeymoon.

Waiting by her side, Biscuit devoured the crust Kat offered him. He rolled over, offering his mottled stomach, one hind leg kinked skywards. This usually resulted in a scratch, and Biscuit was right. Years of experience.

Kat’s musings ended as the kitchen darkened and rain pummelled the tin roof, deafening the radio. She gathered her teaching gear into a large satchel, whistled for her canine companion and ran out the door.

***

3

The air conditioning gulped and wheezed at the back of the classroom like an asthmatic robot. Posters on display cast inescapable information and reminders to students. Sprawling artwork dangled from strings, spider-webbing the room.

The small primary school where Kat taught maintained a close, open partnership with parents, teachers and interested citizens. A philosophy program was being trialled, initiated by the Principal, and Kat had applied for a job here because she could develop her interest in teaching this subject.

Kat could see her class was tired. Young foreheads glistened and clammy, skinny limbs hung limp like overcooked spaghetti. In their literal hothouse, Kat’s rigorous questioning had encouraged her students to develop critical thinking skills about their beliefs and the world around them. To her satisfaction many children were developing wider perspectives and a strong inner voice. Teaching was her passion. Kat had always been far more confident in her role as a teacher than in other aspects of her life. Here she felt competent and challenged—here she had found her niche.

Cushions and students lay strewn at the front of the classroom to survive the pre-monsoonal afternoon so close to Friday home-time. Two fans assisted the air con, circulating air swollen with the odours of juvenile sweat and busy, under-washed hands. The colourful pillows enhanced the room’s resemblance to the interior of a genie’s bottle. Aged around ten and eleven years, some of Kat’s genies had dark skin, others white, the rest a blend in between. Asian, Islander, European, Aboriginal blood and mixes thereof ran through the youthful veins in front of her.

Despite scepticism from some in the wider community, the students’ families believed in the school, irrespective of student home life which ranged from affluent to near destitute. The school wasn’t atypical in that regard.

Students had their eyes glued on the books they shared one between two. One boy slept, grubby fingers curled around Biscuit’s tail, who served as the unflappable class mascot. The infirm air conditioning droned on, needing a service.

Probably a memorial service.

Kat was prepared to be lenient about posture and concentration levels this afternoon, even sleeping, as long as most students were engaged. She knew the child pumping Zs could do with his nap and was pleased he’d come to school at all. Students were taking turns, reading from copies of Oh, the places you’ll go! by Dr Seuss. Characters from the book harrumphed and ballooned their way across the wall near the door.

Suddenly students flapped like sparrows in a bird bath, trying to dissipate a bad smell. Noxious odours were common in year five, and a girl prodded the sleeping boy awake, pegging her nose as if her life depended on it. Quick to respond the boy pointed to Biscuit, the snoozing scapegoat. Laughter and choking groans spread like grassfire. Kat suppressed an impulse to smile. Too tired to douse an escalation of puerile humour this late in the week, she called out the first word from the book.

Congratulations!

The class, fart forgotten, turned to their teacher.

What comes next, after ‘congratulations’? Kat asked, hands and eyebrows raised in dramatic anticipation.

Today is your day? Miss Smug volunteered.

Well done, Sally. Does anyone have any thoughts they’d like to share about our book before home time?

A hand shot up.

Yes, Natalie?

Miss, I've got something to put on our Bang Ups and Hang Ups, um...that list, Natalie said. She pointed a chipped, hot-pink fingernail at a list on the Dr Seuss display.

"Our Bang Ups and Hangs Up list, of things that might go wrong in life, just like in the book?" Kat asked.

Natalie nodded with an earnestness only the young can muster. She twirled stray, limp curls that had begun the day in plaits.

Kat nodded encouragement. Go on, Natalie.

Carly and Matt’s dad hits their mum when she doesn’t give him money for beer, that’s…wrong. Natalie swallowed. Carly told me at the shops yesterday.

Eyes widened, looking around to gauge the reaction of others before swivelling to Kat, their fearless leader. A few mouths launched into an appalled O. Classrooms never failed to remind Kat of a stage to rehearse and experiment on, for them all. Ed, the Principal, maintained that when young children no longer believe in fairies, they believe in their teacher.

One boy blurted out, We should tell the police! After her recent experience, Kat doubted how effective this obvious strategy sometimes was.

I’ll talk to the police again about Carly and Matt’s family, and the Principal too. Kat’s words echoed back at her, flat and ineffectual. Feeling more fairy than leader, a sigh escaped her lungs.

Thank you for telling me, Natalie. She wished she had a magic wand for the absent students, Carly and Matt. Natalie appeared to be satisfied but Kat knew something more should be done to help the family, and soon. A bell clanged, sounding the end of another school week, and they began their home-time routine.

Have a great weekend and wear your thinking caps on Monday. Good afternoon year five.

"Good af-ter-noon, Miss How-ard." The class chanted in unison, monotonous from repetition except for noon, which would have done a cow proud.

Don’t forget your artwork!

Students collected their paintings, bags and hats in a frantic, tangled rush. Once outside they buzzed like a swarm of grasshoppers, dispersing in the sweltering heat. After chatting to a couple of parents and satisfied that no one was left behind, Kat returned to her classroom.

***

Minutes later Valerie, the newest teacher to the school, strolled into Kat’s classroom.

Another day, another dollar, she moaned, shoulders drooping. This humidity is killing me, and it makes kids more feral than usual.

Kat’s smile was tight as she re-pinned loose pictures to the wall. Valerie slouched over to her desk, touching books and worksheets, inspecting them at close range. She picked up a folder and opened it, scanning the contents. Can I...ah...have a copy of this lesson?

Sure, it’s on the intranet, but you’re welcome to have that.

Ta.

Kat didn’t want to encourage any conversation that might delay her departure. Valerie had arrived at the start of term from somewhere down south…Adelaide? She was still acclimatizing to the heat, a necessary survival process for all newcomers to the tropical north. That was understandable, her nosiness wasn’t.

Sophie, another teacher and Kat’s friend, popped her head around the door.

Coming for drinks Kat? Och…. hi Valerie.

Not this week, thanks, Kat said. Lucas is due back this evening and I’m guessing we’re off to dinner.

Drinks sound good, Valerie said, looking at Sophie with undisguised interest.

Of course, Valerie. Drinks are at Lily’s, you know, Kat’s sister. It’s the building site up from the Sailing Club. Six-ish. Sophie smiled at Valerie, then turned to Kat with a mock frown.

And I’ll expect you next time, Miss Howard.

Next week, Kat promised.

Sophie nodded. Catch you later, leddies. She raised an arm in farewell as she rushed off.

Love that Irish accent, Valerie said, watching Sophie’s receding back.

Scottish.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed as they flickered over Kat. "You are so patient. They tell me you and Lucas have been together, what… ten years, and you guys still haven’t tied the knot?"

Kat stepped back. It was none of her colleagues’ business discussing how long she and Lucas had been an item.

Six. We’ve been...busy. Kat hastened her exit strategy, now blatant about packing up, cross she’d felt the urge to justify herself.

You want my advice, Kat?

No.

Kat thumped a stack of books onto her desk, louder than intended, but it had no impact.

I’d give him an ultimatum.

Good for you.

Do you have any whiteboard cleaner? Kat asked.

In my room, locked up. My kids’d sniff it. Do you need it now?

Yes, please. Whatever it takes to stop you prying.

As Valerie went to leave, Ed, the school Principal, arrived. He observed Valerie as he stood aside for her to pass. How’re things, Valerie. Anything I can do for you?

A tired humph escaped from the woman’s lips. How about an iced plunge pool and a tall beer with a slice of lime?

Ed’s laugh echoed around the room, deep for his slim stature. He wiped moisture from his brow with the back of a hand. You’ll get used to it, I promise.

Valerie rolled her eyeballs as she sauntered out the door.

Ed chuckled and approached Kat, waving a report. "Your class has the most significant maths and literacy improvements, and attendance so far this year!"

Kat raised her eyebrows in surprise, and pleasure. Really? Must be Biscuit. She pointed, only to realize the dog was giving devoted attention to certain parts of his anatomy.

Ed grunted, lowering his voice. You get results, the kids and parents love you. What’s your secret?

She could see her boss was serious, so suppressed another flippant remark. I suppose I try to keep things interesting. Seriously, she said, shrugging. Biscuit helps.

***

In the classroom next door Valerie stepped over lunch wrappers, rulers, erasers, two hats and other student debris. She walked to a cupboard, unlocked it, and reached for the whiteboard cleaner inside. Valerie hesitated. Looking over her shoulder towards the door, her hand searched for a stainless steel hip flask hidden behind the cleaner. She raised the flask to her lips, promising herself two swigs, Friday afternoon and all.

***

4

Back in Kat’s classroom, Ed scratched his head. Ah, I haven’t seen the Miller twins at school this week?

Student attendance was still a problem at the school although it was improving. Kat thought back to her impulsive visit to the home of the twins, Matt and Carly Miller, a few days earlier. They hadn’t been at school for two weeks and Kat’s phone calls home had gone unanswered. Two girls in her own school cohort had lived in the same suburb as the Miller twins, but it hadn’t seemed so scruffy and hopeless back then.

On her visit Kat had driven past dilapidated houses with decaying front yards, like rotting teeth in a neglected mouth. A filthy mattress and rusty car wreck signalled despair on one nature strip. Guessing the house number, she parked Whitey and got out.

Kat intended to knock, introduce herself and enquire about Carly and Matt. The leftover birthday cupcakes of Carly’s friend had prompted her last minute decision to visit.

Concerned about the twins’ absence, Kat hadn’t considered what she’d say to the twins’ mother. They were bright kids and Kat had a good rapport with them, but had never met or even seen either parent at school, only an auntie who gave little away. Perhaps there was something she could do to help? Had they been away visiting family? Kat worried the twins were falling behind in their classwork.

Unsure if Ed would approve, Kat had avoided telling him about her visit. She had second thoughts driving down the street now, her visit feeling intrusive, even meddlesome. Kat considered abandoning her excursion and driving home; instead she parked her car and got out. Next thing she was standing on the path to the front door, holding the cupcakes, still numb with indecision.

The sound of smashing glass exploded from the house, and the skin on Kat’s face broke out into pinpricks of panic. It wasn’t one glass dropped by accident. It was a lot of glass, broken with force, once, twice, three times. An angry male voice hollered, followed by a thin wavering wail.

A curtain fluttered at a front window as Kat reversed her steps back to the car. The forlorn face of a dark-skinned woman appeared, one eye closed and blood trickling from an eyebrow. Kat raised her hand, an ineffectual acknowledgement of the woman’s plight. Afterwards, she wasn’t even sure why she’d made the gesture. The woman shook her head before the curtain yanked shut. Domestic violence was a dangerous situation to get involved in, and Kat knew she should call the police instead.

At her car, Kat fumbled with the keys, forgetting she’d left it unlocked. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she swung round to find a man watching her from a yard across the road, his dark face impassive. Barefoot, a checked shirt relieved of its sleeves hung on wiry shoulders, his knobby knees and

Reviews for Arafura

[susan.lattwein · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When I first heard about this book, I was warned that I may not like it because it's 'Chick lit'. Well, if only women can enjoy this tale, then I need to get my oestrogen levels checked, because I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'll admit I wouldn't normally pick a book like this, but I'm glad I strolled outside of my comfort zone.I enjoyed the humour, the location, and the characters ... hell what isn't there to like about this book. If this is an example of how good 'Chick lit' can be, then I've been missing out on great stories for years. Two thumbs up. :-)(Ben Brown)