I picked up Leah after work on Friday. She had camped at Glenbrook before, but I had never been. Her pack was already on the ground by her old Corolla when I pulled in, and she looked relieved to see me.

We headed west, up through Penrith and Lapstone, past the pub, before turning off at Glenbrook. At the park gate the ranger gave us a nod, and soon the bitumen gave way to gravel. The track twisted through tall gums, the light fading, the air sharper and cooler.

Leah shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I should have gone before we left.”

I braked harder than necessary on a rut. She slapped my arm.
“Stop it. I’m seriously going to piss myself.”

“The road’s rough,” I said, barely holding in a grin.

She glared at me but broke into a smile anyway.

By the time we reached the campground she was out of the car and running for the drop toilet. I stood in the cool bush air, listening to cockatoos shrieking as they settled into the trees. The place was quiet otherwise, just the heavy smell of eucalyptus and damp earth.

Our site was the last one at the end of the loop, shaded by gums with the creek just beyond. It was not flowing, more like a chain of shallow pools, water still and greenish, with a film of mosquitoes skating across the surface. Somewhere in the shadows a turtle slipped from a log into the water.

We set up the tent quickly then carried our chairs up to join the others by the fire. The group was a mix of old friends and a couple of newcomers. Chris was already drunk, muttering into his drink. Gina was animated, telling a story about her daughter chasing kangaroos at Euroka clearing.

Mary was the one who surprised me. Tall, broad shouldered, cardigan over a skirt even here in the dirt, her hair pulled back in a bun. She had lost her husband last year and usually stayed home with her kids. Tonight she sat by the fire with a plastic cup of wine, trying to let herself breathe.

The conversations rose and fell with the flames. At one point Mary’s voice cut through. “I miss him so much.”

It landed heavily. Then John said firmly, “We love you, Mary.” And the rest of us murmured in agreement. Even Chris managed a grunt of support.

I tried to break the heaviness. “I’ve been teaching myself massages. Anyone game to test me out?”

Donna jumped up immediately. Small, cheeky grin, blonde pixie cut. “Go on then. Show us.”

I rolled out my mat near the fire. Donna stretched out on her stomach, jeans and t-shirt still on. I played it up at first, pretending to be theatrical, but when my hands dug into her shoulders her breath slipped out in a long sigh. The circle quietened. My palms moved slowly, easing the tension from her muscles. Her body softened under my touch.

And then I felt it. Eyes on us.

Just beyond the firelight, behind the rough trunk of a gum tree, someone was watching. Not one of ours. A camper from another site. The shape was faint, barely visible, but unmistakeable. They leaned, half hidden, still as stone.

I said nothing.

Donna sat up flushed, laughing. “Magic hands.”

The others teased, then more of them lined up. One by one, they came to the mat. Each time was different. Nervous laughter. Shy silence. The quiet sigh of someone surrendering to being cared for.

When Mary finally stood, she hesitated only a moment before lying face down. I worked her shoulders, the knots slowly giving way, her breath heavy. Around the fire, the others went quiet again. It felt almost reverent.

I glanced up and caught the watcher again. Closer this time. Just at the edge of the light, face half turned, eyes fixed on us. A shadow behind a tree, unseen by everyone else.

Later, Sophie, Tracey’s younger friend, appeared in loose pyjamas. She lay on the mat, cheeks flushed, body warm under my hands. She seemed to drift, lips parted slightly, and when I looked up the figure was still there, motionless, watching. A mosquito whined past my ear.

By the time I was done my hands ached. I stretched out on the mat with a laugh. “That’s me finished. Unless anyone wants to return the favour.”

To my surprise, a few did. Hands pressed into my shoulders, clumsy but eager. Others joined in, overlapping, laughing, leaning in with warmth. The fire flickered low, the night hummed with insects, and the smell of smoke clung to everything.

Leah leaned over, smirking. “This must be your fantasy. All these women doting on you.”

“Not quite,” I said. “In the fantasy you’re all naked, oiled up, and I can actually see what’s happening.”

The group erupted with laughter. Someone cuffed me on the head.

But when the laughter died and the fire sank lower, I looked past the circle. The figure was still there, half hidden in the dark trees. Watching. Silent.

And this time I wondered if they would still be there when the fire went out.