Travelling the White Line

Welcome to Bellingen

The sounds of wind chimes and the humid, sticky air stirred Celeste awake. She wiped her sleepy hazel eyes, stretching her arms as high above her head as the camper van would allow.

Pulling back the thin, paisley fabric that covered the window, she peered outside. Scanning the scenery, she noticed her parents had already set up a campsite in a flat, open area surrounded by gumtrees. She wondered how long she'd been asleep.

"Do you want to stop and see the Big Banana?" she remembered her mum asking, "We're almost in Coffs Harbour."

Stooping low, Celeste pulled back the handle and slid open the door. As she stepped out of the Kombi and into the sunlight, the familiar scent of her mum's cooking floated on the light breeze towards her. She sighed, grateful for the warmth of the sun that kissed her skin. Somewhere in the distance she could hear running water, gently trickling.

"There you are, sleepy head!" her dad bellowed cheerfully, "We've got lentil soup for lunch."

She walked towards the campsite, groaning audibly as she stretched her arms behind her head.

"What's wrong, Celeste?" her mum queried, tying her blonde hair into a bun.

"I'm still half asleep. Where are we camped?"

"Never Never Creek, in the Promised Land." her mum explained nonchalantly while she eyed the soup, "We're 20 minutes from town."

"You'll need to wake up," her dad laughed as he draped an arm around his wife. She shrugged him off, swatting him playfully. "We've got guests joining us soon."

"Who?" Celeste asked, flopping down into a camping chair that had been covered with a colourful patchwork throw.

"Harry Mason and his kids," her dad smiled, sitting in the chair across from her. "He's a friend of mine from my school days. They have a daughter your age, you used to play with her before we got on the road."

"I wouldn't count on her remembering that, it was 12 years ago," her mum remarked, stirring the pot above the campfire.

Celeste shrugged, reaching for a silver canteen laying on the floor next to an empty camping chair. She opened the cap and placed her lips to it, taking large gulps. 

Ugh, lukewarm.

The sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves made her shift her gaze. A group of people were walking towards the campsite.

A tall, willowy woman in dark blue jeans and a loose white blouse walked beside a shorter, pot-bellied man in a pair of cargo pants. To their right an equally willowy girl with a pixie face and a young boy holding a Tonka truck walked together. They all had the same shade of dark brunette hair.

"Harry," Celeste's dad called out, standing to greeting him with open arms. They quickly embraced.

"G'day Lazarus, it's been too long. And Breeze," he exclaimed, clasping her mother's hands between his, "You look wonderful as usual."

"Thank you Harry," she smiled, turning to the tall woman, "How've you been, Susanne?"

"Just cruising along, running the cafe," she said, "Do you remember my daughter Pippa?"

"I do! You've grown up so fast, Pip. How old are you now?"

"Sixteen," Pippa answered with a polite smile. Celeste couldn't help but notice her wiry, graceful frame. She wrapped her arms around her stomach self-consciously. 

"And I'm Max!" the young boy grinned impishly, "And this is my toy truck. It holds a lot of dirt."

"He just loves his trucks," Harry beamed, running a hand through his thick brown beard, "Wants to drive a dirt truck like his old man."