By the time they returned, Maria’s slippers flapping as she ran, poor Toto was on the ground, convulsing. The woman went hysterical in Italian, throwing herself over the horse.
He yelled to be heard. ‘Ring a vet. You need a vet.’
‘Si, si. I ring Stan.’
‘Stan’s away. You need to ring a mainland vet. Go.’
‘Si, si.’ She ran back to the house as fast as the flip, flop of her slippers would allow.
When a curlew cried three times and the jacaranda flowers fluttered down in slow motion, Grappa knew that death was upon them. The image of that glorious beast as it lay in its death bead of lilac rain would stay with him to the end of his days. The liquid brown eye, sad but calm, conveyed a knowledge beyond human comprehension, before life trickled out of it.
Grappa felt the island hold its breath. A curlew skittered across his vision and screamed, bloodcurdling in the fading light. How many more deaths would there be? Jip, then Harley, now Toto. A darkness that had clung to the island since that first day he had seen her on the barge engulfed him. It was no coincidence the deaths had started soon after she arrived. He was certain she was the cause of it all, somehow. The taste of fear sucked his mouth dry.
‘Can’t start blaming her for everything, you moron. Harley overdosed, and the way Toto acted…didn’t look like poison.’ The sound of Maria’s slippers ceased his muttering. He could hear her on her cordless phone, talking to the vet.
‘Yesterday I notice he not his usual self. He not eats the apple I try to give –’
When she saw the horse was dead, she collapsed, crying out in her mother tongue. Grappa rescued the phone and answered the vet’s questions as well as he could. The man explained it was too late to shift the carcass but would come across now to take tests. ‘Most important thing is that neither of you leave the property.’
‘But I don’t live here. I was –’
‘Don’t care. You were with the horse when it died. You touched the horse. I’ll need to alert the authorities. There are procedures in place now. You’re both in quarantine until we know more.’
‘Quarantine? For what?’
‘There’s been two outbreaks of Hendra in the last month on the mainland, one right here at Rocky Point. Can’t take any chances. Are there any fruit trees that attract bats on the property?’
Grappa stared at the forest of bananas and pawpaws along the fence line and cleared his throat. ‘A couple.’
Grappa didn’t like the way the vet let out a breath. ‘Has anyone else been near the horse? Is anyone on the property with you, apart from the owner?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Don’t let anyone enter the property. Neither of you are to leave the property. On my way now.’
Grappa felt a genuine sadness for the little Italian woman as he pried her off Toto. Half carrying her back to the monolithic house to wait for the vet, the ferocity of her sobs made him wonder how much more grief one island could endure.
Ayla hunched beside her mother, looking around the wake, silently toasting Harley with the beer Trev had given her. Harley would have been astounded – almost half the island was here. His brother, squatting on the front steps of Trev and June’s house, was so identical to him it was eerie. He and some second cousin were the only members of Harley’s family who had bothered attending.
His grey fibro house seemed tomb-like all shut up and had started to grow mould down the shady side, from all the rain. The lawn needed a mow and Jip’s grave looked lonelier than ever. ‘Harley and Jip should be buried together, not apart.’
Her mother patted her on the knee in answer, distracted by Aunty Dora and Rayleen who were sitting with a group of ladies from the island Art and Craft Club. Dora’s laugh rang out, her face turned to the bright sky, guffawing so hard she had to wipe tears.
‘Think Dora just heard about Grappa’s quarantine.’ Her mother sounded wicked.
‘Can you imagine him, being stuck there with Maria? They have nothing in common.’
‘I know.’ Her mother couldn’t stop chuckling as she went to join the women and have a good laugh at Grappa’s expense.
Mandy was sitting beside Rayleen, who had her arm firmly around her daughter with no intention of removing it. Mandy caught Ayla’s gaze and mouthed, ‘save me.’
The wake was buzzing with the news of Toto’s death.
‘Third death in a row.’
‘That’ll be it now. Always happens in threes.’
‘Hope that fucking dog killing bitch feels guilty for what she did to Jip. Poor Harley paid the price.’ It was Steve Tyson who ran the fishing club.
‘It wasn’t her, Steve. Harley got it wrong,’ June was emphatic.
‘Seemed fucking certain last time I spoke to him.’
‘I met her…had coffee with her. She was very concerned about Harley. Asked all kinds of questions to check if he was okay.’ June’s make-up didn’t hide the fresh bruise under her cheek bone. She tilted her head so her hair fell over her face.
‘Trev not coping too well, hey June?’ Steve’s voice caught with emotion.
‘Trev found him. Hasn’t stopped drinking since. Anybody need a beer?’ She walked away without waiting for an answer, collecting empty cans on the way. Trev, who was frightened of Aunty Dora, was nowhere to be seen. Ayla pulled the letter out of her pocket and read it again, savouring each word.
Dear Ayla,
I am truly sorry for losing my temper. It was mortally wrong to grab you like that. I was a monster. Now you have seen the worst in me – my awful temper, and you were only trying to do what was honest and correct, honourable lady that you are. This situation with my mother is very involved. I applaud you for running from it. Now I have employment (thanks to you), I can search for a place of my own. I can’t live with her anymore. I understand if you don’t want anything further to do with me, but please know I can’t stop thinking about you. The thought that I may never see you again is unbearable. I am sorry for any distress or physical harm I have caused you.
Your Riley.
She touched the ink marks. Plain blue writing on white paper had never emanated such charm.
‘How many times are you going to read that thing? Go and see him.’ Mandy poked her shoulder.
‘Mum said he looked dreadful when he dropped it off, like he hadn’t slept for days.’
‘He’s around at Mrs Watson’s, mowing her lawn.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Just heard Mrs Watson and Tilly talking about him. Sounded like a couple of old cougars. I’d come with you to suss him out if Mum would let me out of her sight.’ Rayleen was calling her.
‘Maybe if you visited more, she wouldn’t be so full on.’
‘You kidding? She’d be worse.’
‘True.’
‘God almighty Mum, give me a break,’ she screamed across the party as only Mandy could. ‘Have fun making up with virgin boy,’ she teased, as she headed back to her mother.
Ayla drained the last of her beer for Dutch courage and opened the front gate. Her heart raced ahead of itself as she walked up the hill in the direction of Mrs Watson’s. It had been weeks since she had seen him, but nothing had changed. The thought of him still made her hold her breath. Breathe, stupid. What are you scared of?
Riley was pushing a mower into the shed at the side of the large brick house, wearing only an old pair of shorts. She had never seen so much of his body exposed. It had a natural beauty to it, unlike the fake sculpted look Harry had gained from working out. Harry’s muscles were artificially inflated, like his ego. Everything about Riley, including muscle definition, was real. Ayla stopped herself, annoyed. She knew she was always comparing out of fear of being hurt again, but would it ever end? She didn’t want Harry in her psyche anymore.
Riley was locking the door to the shed. The way his shoulders slumped made him look worn out and sad. Was it because of her?
‘Hi.’
He spun around.
&
nbsp; She moved toward him, but he took a step back. ‘I stink. I’ve been mowing lawns all day…’
‘Don’t worry, I smell of beer.’ She stepped into him.
He hugged her hard.
‘Thank you for your letter.’
He pulled her in tighter and they stood for a long time feeling each other breathe.
‘Let’s go for a swim.’ She slipped her sandals off and held them in her hands. ‘Last one there.’ She was off. He overtook her on the gravel but once they hit the beach she had the lead. ‘You lose.’
They flopped onto the sand, panting. Between breaths, he said, ‘You know I can’t swim?’
She checked to see if he was joking. ‘I’ll teach you.’ Stripping down to matching bra and pants, she ran into an oncoming wave.
He pulled his shorts off to reveal white y-fronts.
His mother must still buy his underwear. How cute.
He remained in the shallows. ‘Come on!’ she called.
He’s frightened of waves. That’s even cuter.
‘Dive under the next one that comes at you. Like this,’ she shot under a wave and surfaced further out. ‘See? You come out the other side.’ Three waves passed before he worked up the courage. She went to him and held his hand. ’Let’s do the next one together.’ They dived four times until clear of the breakers.
He looked toward the beach. ‘We’re so far out but I can still touch.’
‘Isn’t it the best?’ She disappeared, emerging beside him, pressing her slippery body against his. She kissed his salty mouth and felt it explode with desire. Their mouths became one, hands wild for each other. Her legs wrapped around him, lost in the want of him, rubbing herself against his erection, coming in her pants as he did. The strangled noise he made, entrancing.
He looked horrified. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m not.’ She kissed him and whispered in his ear. ‘I’d love to feel you inside me.’
Still breathless, he let out an indistinct sound, half word, half laugh.
Ayla felt a blush rising, so she dived under and headed toward the beach.
They dried themselves with their clothes, avoiding eye contact. She tried to think of something to say as the silence between them hardened. ‘You need a phone. Why don’t we go to the mainland tomorrow and buy you one?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ve got to clean in the morning, but I could meet you at the jetty for the two o’clock? Are you working tomorrow?’ She walked towards the track to her front yard. He looked so uncomfortable, standing shivering in his wet y-fronts, she wanted to let him be.
‘I need to trim a hedge, that’s all.’ He mumbled, backing away and tripping over the same tree root that brought him down last time. ‘See you at two then.’
She waved like an idiot, wanting to smash her head on the angophora as she passed it. Harry had taught her to talk dirty. ‘I’d love to feel me inside you.’ One of Harry’s operating lines. Cringe factor. Talk about awkward. Good one Ayla. She realised she was fumbling into new territory here, groping her way in the dark, learning to start all over again.
17.
Starving after cleaning all morning, Ayla stood at the end of the jetty, watching for Riley and gobbling the last of the ice-cream like she was breathing it in.
Shane, the decky, stood in the doorway of the ferry. ‘Shit, you were hungry.’
She couldn’t answer because her mouth was too full.
‘You catching this one, Aylee?’ Shane had his hand on the rope about to untie.
She saw Riley running, and nodded as she stepped onto the boat. Riley dived on behind, ready to hug. She grabbed his hand instead. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’ Every goggled eye in the boat was upon them.
‘Hi, Aylee.’
‘Hi, Mrs Parkes.’
‘How you going, Aylee?’
‘Good thanks, Sammy.’
‘Ayla, can you tell your mother that the geranium cutting she gave me took beautifully.’
‘Sure thing, Beryl.’
‘Is your grandfather still in quarantine?’
‘Don’t know actually, Tina.’
As they climbed the ladder, she heard them gossiping about the death of Toto and the suspected cause.
They had the top deck to themselves. ‘You know everyone,’ he said, hugging her freely now.
‘Did you see them checking you out? It’ll be all over the island – Ayla’s got a boyfriend.’
At the word ‘boyfriend’ he dared to put his head on her chest. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you all morning.’
‘Thought you were trimming hedges?’
‘While I was trimming hedges.’ He kissed her neck. ‘Even last night I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hardly slept.’ He kissed her mouth. ‘My God. You taste like mango sorbet.’
She pulled away, smiling at his eagerness. ‘Shane will be up in a minute.’
He became visibly nervous.
‘I was so happy to see you yesterday, I forgot to ask…did you find the box?’
At the mention of it, he sank into himself. ‘I’ve searched everywhere…every time she goes out…even under the house.’
Shane popped his head up and Ayla held out her multi-ticket.
Flustered, Riley pulled a thick roll of money from his pocket.
‘Wow mate, you rob a bank?’
‘Um…return please.’
She noticed how uncomfortable Riley looked as he counted the correct money.
Shane gave her a ‘who’s this weirdo?’ look but said, ‘Guess who I saw yesterday, Aylee?’
‘Mandy?’
‘Gee, she’s looking hot. She still only into women?’
‘Yep. Sorry Shane.’
‘Just my luck.’ He climbed down the ladder.
‘How come you brought so much money?’
‘I didn’t know how much a phone would cost.’ He looked confused.
‘Won’t cost that much. Don’t you have a wallet or something?
‘No.’
‘You should put it in a bank. That’s too much to be carrying around.’ He held up the thick wad of notes. ‘Money is a strange thing, isn’t it? What is this? Solidified energy from my flutes, my music, the gardening…if I tossed this overboard –’ He went to and she screamed, grabbing his hand.
‘Put it away, please?’
He shoved it back in his pocket, the smile dropping from his face. ‘My mother married David for his money. The day I met him…the way she primed me…’
‘What do you mean, ‘primed you’?’
‘We were waiting at the airport. She was all jumpy. Kept bending down and holding my shoulders, repeating, ‘He’s rich. He’s going to take care of us. He’s filthy rich, so don’t be rude to him.’
‘Were you?’
‘Of course.’
As the afternoon progressed, Ayla became intrigued by Riley’s quirkiness, revealing how isolated his upbringing had been, and he seemed fascinated that she found his reactions to things funny. In the bus to the shopping centre, he asked where the seat-belts were, embarrassed to admit he had never caught a bus before. He hated the slimy feel of the shopping centre linoleum on his bare feet and walked on his heels which made her laugh so much she got the hiccups. Watching him discover the phones and their myriad of functions was like watching a child eating lollies for the first time.
‘Didn’t David have a phone, or your mother?’
‘The reception was so bad we relied on the land line. When we were packing up, I found an old phone of David’s. Mum rang the company and they talked her through connecting it, but it’s nothing like this. It’s more like that one.’ He pointed to a phone on the display stand.
‘A senior’s phone.’ The sales assistant said with disdain.
By the time they caught the ferry home, he was obsessed with his new toy.
‘I’m starting to get jealous of that thing.’
He fought a yawn. Ayla thought of him lying awake all night, thinking of her, and gestured for
him to put his head in her lap.
‘Shut your eyes.’ She massaged his scalp.
She assumed he had fallen asleep when he said, ‘I want to try your idea of being honest. She likes you. It might work.’ He stared at the flame pink clouds hanging low over the horizon as if trying to tell the future by them. ‘Besides, I have no options left.’
‘Grappa always says life unfolds in a circle. The seasons circle in on each other. The moon and the sun are circles. The earth is a circle. Every action we do in life will circle back on us in some way. His Gran lived by that belief. She told him that’s why the Irish cross has a circle around it, to remind us of this. Maybe your mum knows you need to see that box, to learn about your father, complete the circle? Maybe that’s why she’s kept it all these years? But she hasn’t been ready to face it?’
‘Maybe.’ He didn’t sound convinced.
By the time they approached the house, Ayla didn’t feel so confident. Her mouth dried when she saw the old wooden place; a giant long-legged insect standing crookedly over the swamp.
Marlise was sitting on the verandah, statue-like, staring across the mangroves to some distant point beyond life itself.
‘Hi, Mum.’
She looked down on them. Ayla thought she looked ill.
‘Hi, Ayla.’
‘Hi.’
He ushered Ayla upstairs, ‘Would you like a glass of water?’
‘Yes please.’ She followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table, wondering why they were whispering.
‘Would you like a glass of water or something, Mum?’ he called, holding the fridge door open.
His mother materialised, her skin paler than Ayla remembered, with black shadows under her eyes. ‘That’s the first conversation he’s initiated in days,’ Her sadness made Ayla feel guilty. ‘Hope you don’t treat your mother like that? I don’t even get a ‘bye Mum’ when he leaves the house anymore. Maybe it’s a boy thing.’
Beneath the Mother Tree Page 19