No Rescue Read Free

from the ferry to the zoo was fantastic. Miri’s fingers itched for her camera. The views across Sydney had tourists snapping shots and exclaiming in half a dozen different languages. Her own contribution came without thought. ‘I’m a photographer.’ She glanced at Tad and saw that his attention was for her, not the view.
    â€˜That suits you. You’re watchful, taking everything in. You should have brought your camera. I wouldn’t have minded.’
    She shrugged one shoulder. Uncharacteristically, she hadn’t thought to bring it. All her attention was for him. The realisation made her self-conscious and dragged a deeper truth out of her. ‘Maybe I need to be in the world, and not simply viewing it through a lens.’
    The cable car reached the zoo’s entrance and she used that as an excuse to stand and change the conversation. They kept getting too serious, connecting too deeply. It was disconcerting.
    Perhaps he thought so too. For a few minutes, their conversation was only about the animals. They stopped at the komodo dragons’ enclosure.
    â€˜Ugh. What a monster.’ The huge grey lizard was ugly, but it was the sense of power and threat that emanated from it that had her retreating, and bumping into Tad. They stayed like that a moment, with her alive to his warmth and strength. It seemed as if their breathing synchronised.
    â€˜Do you know komodo dragons don’t need to have sex to reproduce?’
    â€˜Pathogenesis.’
    He put a hand to her waist and turned her around. ‘How do you know that? I thought I’d impress you with my knowledge.’
    â€˜I guess we both watched the same TV documentary.’
    â€˜Huh.’ He looked over her shoulder at the giant lizard. ‘Still, I feel sorry for him. Not much fun if there’s no sex.’
    She figured there was no safe answer to that, especially with Tad smiling down at her, his smile broadening when she didn’t respond.
    The zoo was alive with the sounds of the animals and with visitors. A group of elderly people had been disgorged from a bus outside and were now making their way determinedly from exhibit to exhibit. Parents with toddlers zipped smartly around them, manoeuvring expensive pushers and promising penguins. Through the chaos, zoo staff trundled along the paths in little electric carts. Miri stepped back fast to prevent being run over.
    A cockatoo shrieked with what sounded suspiciously like laughter. A toddler responded with an ear-splitting demand: ‘Peng-wins!’ He silenced the bird and everyone else. His mother looked around, smiling brightly. ‘Does anyone know where the penguins are?’
    A dozen hands pointed. She escaped.
    Miri and Tad laughed. They took in the orang-utan enclosure and its sleepy, human-like inhabitants before reaching the giraffes.
    â€˜Aww.’ The baby was adorable. ‘Look at her skinny legs. And her eyes. Giraffes have beautiful faces.’
    No response from Tad.
    Miri glanced at him.
    â€˜I think they’re weird. I saw them in Africa, drinking at a waterhole, long legs all everywhere as they bent their necks down. And they run strangely.’
    â€˜Maybe you should give them tips?’
    He grinned at her. ‘Do you like my style?’
    She rolled her eyes, not that he could see since she had her sunglasses on, but his unabashed fishing-for-compliments had her laughing.
    He had to know he was gorgeous. What really worked for him was that he didn’t seem to care. He was just a regular guy strolling through the zoo and making her feel special with teasing, laughter and questions. Plus, he listened when she answered.
    They walked through the dappled light of the safari zone, and she walked maybe a fraction closer than necessary, enjoying the brush of their bodies and the happy zap that accompanied the accidental touches.
    A Barbary sheep regarded them with a grumpy expression.
    â€˜What sort of photographer are you?