Happy Mother's Day!

‘Smile at the what?’ Siena asked and then her mouth dropped open as the concrete base slid away from under them and, just like that, they were hanging suspended over the rainforest. ‘Holy heck!’

As she gripped on to her seat, her eyes huge in her face as she peered out the three hundred and sixty degree windows at the view unfolding as their capsule swung up the mountain, James leant back against the hot glass, crossed his arms and simply watched her.

She turned to him, her eyes questioning, and he couldn’t help but smile back. ‘We put on quite a show up here for the tourists,’ he said.

‘You can say that again. Wow, this is amazing! How long does it take to Kuranda?’

‘Non-stop? About thirty-five minutes,’ he said, which was a little longer than the ‘tiny bit later’ he had promised her.

He waited for her to explode at being kidnapped, which was pretty much what he had resorted to, unsure as he was that she was as far along in this attraction thing as he was, but she just nodded and continued to shift and shuffle to get the best view.

Their capsule swung back and forth with her movements. If she had been half as energetic as a teenager, he was sure big burly Rick Capuletti would have been green about the gills by that stage.

They bumped and trundled their way up the mountain in silence, masses of ferns and vines, hot red flame trees, towering conifers and thick dark rainforest vegetation sliding away secretively beneath them. When the grand Barron River peeked through the foliage, twinkling silver in the late morning sun, James spoke up.

‘Get your land-legs back on. We’re almost there.’

Siena looked back at him with a relaxed smile. Her cheeks were pink from her time in the sun and, for the first time since he had met her, she seemed loose-limbed and relaxed.

‘If you tell me they’ve torn down the markets and those odd hippy shops to make way for a strip mall and condos I will take back everything I’ve ever believed about the snail pace progress of this place,’ she said.

The tickle of laughter that had threatened earlier bubbled to the surface as he actually chuckled. ‘Don’t get too excited. You’re still more likely to be able to pick up some weird herbal concoction at the markets than you are to find a Starbucks or McDonald’s.’

‘Great,’ she said, beaming so suddenly that James’s next breath lodged in his throat. ‘I know just what to get Rick for Christmas!’

When their capsule reached the other end, a guide reminded them to ‘smile at the frog', which turned out to be a frog-shaped camera. They did as they were told. Siena leaned in towards him, her shoulder brushing his as she smiled amiably until the flash went off.

Caught up in the heady feeling of companionship, James took a hold of Siena’s dangling hand and wrapped it back into the crook of his arm and led her into town. She didn’t argue or pull away, and when he glanced at her again he found the furrowed brow was clear. His cheek twitched into a self-satisfied smile.

She could stay that relaxed if she just allowed herself to live on tropics time, he thought.

James ducked into one shop alone and came out with a big floppy sun-hat to ward off the hot North Queensland sun.

‘You can’t,’ she insisted when he gave it to her.

‘I must,’ he said. ‘It cost five bucks, and remember I overcharge. Besides your nose is pink.’

Though it was a size too big, she gave in and slapped it atop her neat bob and he was sure she walked closer as they continued to window-shop.

Nestled in amongst the brightly coloured shop fronts selling tie-dyed clothes, local artwork and bric-a-brac sat Sloppy Joe’s—a rundown café that looked as though the town had been built around it.

When they wandered into the empty room, the couple sitting smoking something sweet at the front table peeled themselves from their chairs. One pulled out a notepad and the other ambled into the kitchen.

‘Busy day?’ James asked the waitress, tongue firmly in cheek.

‘Too busy for my liking,’ the waitress agreed, then grinned at him through her chewing gum and pointed to a booth in the corner.

‘Do you think the people in this place know what a cappuccino is?’ Siena whispered, pulling off her hat and ruffling a hand up the back of her hair, which was beginning to curl despite the effort that had obviously gone into keeping it smooth.

‘We’ll soon find out.’

‘Do you come here often?’ Siena asked, her inquisitive eyes darting about the room, taking in the bright paintings for sale on the dark walls, the unswept concrete floor and slow-moving ceiling fans pushing the humid heat around the room.

‘Not for ages. My grandad was a cabinet-maker before me and he ran a stall at the markets up here. He swore by their all-day breakfast. But that was a while back.’

‘Did he teach you everything you know?’ she asked, sliding into the vinyl booth, which squeaked as she sat.