In the supermarket the girls have a Hummer load of groceries piled high in their trolley.
‘Shit’ I think.
‘No room for food’ I joke.
They stare at me darkly, add another bag of oranges and send me off to get a second packet of Vita Brits.
I’m getting nervous. I make eye contact with Denis – but there is no eyebrow raising this time, just two pairs of staring eyes.
At the car we swing open the back door. ‘Where are we going to put our stuff?’ asks Andrea. ‘We’ll be fine’ I reassure her. ‘Denis and I are expert packers’.
The car appears full, it’s true. We have 6 bags of groceries, four backpacks, four day packs and another tent to come. We decide to pack in the morning.
A meal at Matso’s, two bottles of wine, a whiskey each is followed by a sleep ruptured by dreams of packing solutions and retribution.
It’s a foggy morning next day. Unusual for Broome. It’s an omen. But of what.
Over breakfast we realise we need to add pillows to our list. And a toaster.
We may have to choose.