“There’s not.”
“How will you manage?”
“That’s not your problem.”
“Yes. It is my problem. Has anything like this happened before?”
He pitched his voice low and hard. “Get off my rock.”
The air came out of her in a sharp draught. He’d frightened her. Now maybe she’d leave him alone. But she stood there, looking at him, and because it was difficult to make out her features he stared back.
“I need to tell you why I’m especially worried about you,” she said.
Stubborn, stupid woman. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
She stepped towards him, bringing the pool of light with her. “You can’t stay here tonight. They might come back.”
He stepped back and noticed his tarp had been ripped too. Under his foot was the flattened, torn cover of a book. “Which is why you need to go now.”
“I’m not going unless you are. I can take you to a shelter tonight. You can come back when it’s light.”
“I’m not leaving.”
The light shut off. She walked past him into the cave. “Then do you mind if I sit on what’s left of your sleeping bag? I think my butt has deflated. I’ve been sitting on that rock for hours.” She stopped in the act of picking the bag up. “Unless you want to use it?”
He’d touched her before he realised it. He wanted her to stop, to go. He retracted his fingers almost as quickly as he made contact with the back of her arm, but it was long enough to realise she was cold and for his anger to cool, like her body temperature.
“You have no sense, woman.”
She bundled the torn-up bag in her arms and turned to face him. She was way too close and moonlight caught her face. He saw an ocean of feeling there and he had to look away.
“If they come again we can sneak out your back way.”
He grunted an acknowledgement. There wasn’t much of a reason for anyone to come back. Whoever did this had their fun, had their laugh, knowing they’d left him with nothing worth anything.
“They won’t come back. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
She huffed. “A moment ago you were trying to get me to leave because you thought they would.”
“A moment ago, I found out my home had been ransacked and I wasn’t sure it wasn’t your latest tactic to get me to move out.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.” She spread the bag at the mouth of the cave, folding it so it made a blanket of sorts to sit on, then sat with a grunt and stretched her legs out in front of her, facing the ocean. It was a lovely clear night, but it would get much cooler. And he still needed to talk her into leaving.
He walked around the cave. His books had been torn apart. Had there been any wind, there could be pages of prose all over the beach and up and down the coast by now. His mug and plate were broken. There was no sign of his cooktop, though the gas bottle was still there. His esky and suitcase were missing. There was a scattering of clothing: a t-shirt, a pair of boardies, a hoodie. He picked the hoodie up and sniffed it. It smelled like the sea. It would have to do.
“Here, put this on.” He held it out to her.
“I’m fine.”
Because he was close to her, he noticed her smile. “You’re cold and it will get colder.”
“We could both be warmer if we went somewhere else.”
“I’m not leaving. This is where I live. This is where I want to be.”
“Even when someone has mucked it all up for you?”
“They’re just things. They’re not important. I can replace then.”