Fishing for Stars Read Online Free PDF

did. Who’d know?’
    ‘Oh, I see, feeling sorry for ourselves are we? The navy doesn’t forget its war heroes, darling.’
    ‘Ha, ha. All those invitations to mess dinners must have been lost in the mail.’
    Marg’s voice grows concerned. ‘Should I come over to the island? I could help with your inquiries about the fishing rights.’
    Despite myself I burst into laughter. ‘I couldn’t think of a quicker way to scuttle your plans. As soon as the Department of Fisheries learned you were on the island, darling, they’d close everything tighter than a duck’s bum.’ I hope my mirthful outburst will distract her attention from me and bring it back to matters green, but I should know better. She’s tenacious. ‘You can trust me, Nick.’
    ‘Marg, no quacks!’
    ‘Nick, I’m only going to make a few inquiries. Bye, darling.’ I hear the click at the other end.
    ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I mumble to myself. Marg Hamilton is on the warpath and somewhere along the line someone closely resembling Dr Strangelove will be tapping the end of his fountain pen on a desk and asking me a bunch of questions intended to reveal my innermost mind. X-rays and brain scans are certain to follow, with a urologist in the wings waiting to probe my arse with a surgical glove.
    A week later, with a couple of nightmares thrown in for good measure and five empty bottles of Scotch, I pick up the phone to hear Marg Hamilton on the other end. I groan; it’s a morning call. As usual there’s not so much as a greeting. ‘Nick, very exciting news. I’ve found just the chappie.’
    ‘Chappie? What chappie? By the way, good morning, Marg.’
    ‘Your Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, of course!’
    I sigh. ‘Why, of course! It’s confirmed then. Good. Now, may I get on with my life?’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Nick Duncan, you’re damaged . . . possibly severely damaged. You’re going to need help.’
    I’m certain she must feel the weight of my impatient sigh all the way down in Sydney. ‘Forget it, darling. I’m past repairing. Let it go, it will sort itself out.’
    ‘No it won’t !’ she says emphatically. ‘You’ll simply have to fly over and see the psychiatrist I’ve found. Lovely man. You’ll enjoy him.’
    ‘Enjoy him? I can well imagine.’
    ‘Now, Nick, don’t start! Dr Freeman is one of the best in his field.’
    ‘ Free man , is that a pun?’ I say, in a feeble attempt to be clever.
    ‘Of course not! He’s Jewish.’
    ‘Well then, he’s probably got deep psychological scars of his own to attend to.’ Suddenly angry, I find myself shouting. ‘Bloody oath, Marg, will you leave me alone!’ And I slam down the receiver.
    But, of course, the phone rings again moments later, finally stops, then five minutes later starts to ring again. Somewhat calmer and ashamed of my childish tantrum I answer it. Her voice is triumphant. ‘See, I knew it! You’re in trouble, Nick. You can hang up all you like, but I’m not giving up on you. You need help. Now get Saffron to pack your bag and drive you to the airport and I’ll meet your plane on arrival. You can stay with me. Ring first and tell me the number of your flight.’
    I grin despite myself. ‘I have to be over next month for Saffron’s graduation, we’ll discuss it then. But if you don’t mind we’ll stay in a hotel.’
    Marg doesn’t take umbrage. She’s too busy to care for guests anyway. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Nick. It’s hard to get an appointment. I’ll have to pull strings; he’s top-drawer.’
    ‘I’ll call from the hotel when we get to Sydney.’
    Silence, then her voice suddenly grows tender. ‘Nick, you do know that I love you, don’t you? I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, darling.’ She pauses and then gives a despairing choke. ‘I . . . I couldn’t stand it!’ I’m surprised to hear that she is crying.
    Christ! Anna and Marg! What must I have done in some previous life to deserve such an infuriating duo? Whatever it