They sat around a small round table on lime green vinyl chairs.
The police officer began.
‘Well, I suppose you are both wondering why I’m here.’ She paused, as Tara and Josh looked at her expectantly, and anxiously.
‘Look, Tara, Josh, I’m afraid I have some bad news. This morning, just after eleven o’clock we were called to an incident at the beach. Your mum was taken by ambulance to the hospital and despite the very best efforts of all involved, they were unable to save her. I’m so very sorry.’
Tara stared at the officer. Nothing made sense. Was this a dream? Was this a joke? She looked at her brother just as a wave of disbelief and fear washed over his face.
She watched as his mouth opened and he cried out ‘Nooooo!’
After that her memory took the form of snapshots:
Her teacher’s arm around her, consoling with gentle words.
The ride in the police car back home.
The disjointed days that followed, wrapped in the desolate arms of her nan.
The awful stillness and quiet of the house that once did fairly rumble with activity and her mother’s voice and love.
The devastation now in such small things. The slippers that Mum loved, unworn. Her mum’s used teacup and a small plate with some leftover toast that sat for days.
The redness of her nan’s eyes.
How everyone kept to themselves.
The service and the wake with all their words.
And not one mention of a shark.
This small town where they had come to holiday had always been a place of happiness, of freedom and togetherness away from the ordinary routines of work and school. It was all different once Mum had gone. Tara would see other mothers with their children – laughing, loving, cuddling – only to then remember diving into her own mother’s waist and hugging her with all her might.
Often in these past years, she had slowly walked in the running tide, her face down, hypnotised by the to and fro of the sea. Standing still, facing out towards the ocean, she had allowed her tears to fall freely, in a time and place that was only hers, where she could feel her grief, instead of it being swamped by the needs of her dad or brother, however unintentionally, or by the pity of others, however thoughtful and protective.
It was all so unfair, she had thought, how the rhythms of the world continued, oblivious to her loss. If there was a God, why had He done this to her? She had pleaded and prayed, asking why, but never heard anything back. The only sound was her heart coughing, again.
Toby looked out the window of Boo’s car, the ache in his leg getting worse. The pain was constant yet rose in waves. The only thing he could do was curl his toes in towards the soles of his feet and tightly clench his teeth together as hard as he could, his chest as tight as a drum. Small groans escaped his lips from time to time.
Boo leaned across and rested the back of her fingers against his cheek. ‘You’re running a bit of a temperature. We’ll just drop into the beach and see if they’ve found Tara, check on her and maybe take both of you to the hospital. We can fix you up in a jiffy!’ she said reassuringly.
Toby tried to force a smile but knew all too well that it resembled more of a grimace. He mustered a flat, undecided ‘Mmmn’.
They reached the car park next to the old surf club with its ragged paintwork stripped over the years by the ocean wind, stopping by the long wooden row boats that could hold over half-a-dozen lifesavers. He noticed one in a full-length wetsuit dropping his mask, snorkel and long black flippers onto the sand, still dripping with seawater from a recent mission that Toby realised, with an uncomfortable gulp, was them searching for his lost friend.
Boo turned to him as she pulled the handbrake towards her.
‘I’ll just find out where things are at and then I’ll take you straight to the hospital. You’re looking a bit green around the gills.’
‘Yep, okay,’ Toby replied, his eyes focused on a group gathered about the sergeant’s dusty police wagon. A small wiry man, with a shock of grey black hair, wearing just black cotton shorts and a faded football jumper of red and green stripes, was pointing out to sea with a walking stick.
‘I’ll be back in a flash, but get yourself some air,’ she said, motioning for him to wind down his window. ‘And if you feel a bit off, put your head between your knees, and take deep breaths. It sounds strange, but it helps.’
Toby nodded, and as Boo shut the car door and headed towards the police wagon, Toby pulled down the sun visor so no one could see him, put his face down towards his lap, and for the first time in so long, he wept.
Tara slowly got to her feet, rubbed her face and pushed her hair back and shed herself of the wetsuit. Her heart and her limbs were all a heavy ache and her stomach rumbled an empty cry. She took a large swig of water, and rummaged in her bag for something to eat. With relief, her hand landed on a mandarin, and she took it outside to eat in the warmth of the day.
Yawning and stretching outside the entrance to the tiny cave, she held the fruit aloft, a small orange sun greeting the larger bright one, now high in the sky.
Blinking at its ferocity, she shifted her eyes downwards and looked out over the ocean and the wharf. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the strongest desire to throw the fruit in her hand at the wharf. She imagined it soaring the long, long distance off the mountain, over the caravan park, the beach and the bay, gaining force and momentum, until it hit the old structure, reducing it to a million matchsticks that floated out to sea.
Tara stopped herself in this moment of anger, and instead, lowered her arm and peeled her mandarin, the fresh and soothing bergamot fragrance of the citrus skin calming her. She ate it slowly, the juice slipping between her fingers as she chewed. Wiping her mouth, she wondered how much longer she could stay on the mountain. Her supplies would soon be gone. She knew her father and brother would be looking for her, but she also knew she was not yet ready to return.
Her eyes wandered to the ground beneath her, as she paused to consider what to do next. She was surprised to see a small bird’s nest near her feet. She picked it up, amazed at how strong it was, with twigs skilfully entwined to hold its precious cargo, the result of careful fossicking by parents, its simple construction perfectly designed to protect their young.
She looked up to find where it may have come from. Above her, a stringybark tree reached upwards with its many open arms. To Tara, the branches looked like the tree itself was caught in conversation, asking why to the sky. Her very own question. Deciding to return the nest to its home, she tucked it into her shirt, and hoisted herself onto the lowest bough. Edging forward and twisting herself around the trunk, she was careful not to crush it, and this care troubled her every movement.
She persevered, climbing upwards until she found a small knot forming a cradle, a perfect spot for wedging the nest firmly against the trunk. She nestled it softly, and taking her hands away, leant back, praying that it didn’t fall.
Happy within herself that that, at least, was safely restored, Tara looked up through the branches to search the sky, thinking, hoping, that soon the mother and her family might return so her babies could grow strong, until they found their own place in the world, flying free. She held her head still, holding her breath, waiting for any movement. For any sign.
But there was nothing, just the blue beyond. It was under this same summer sky that her mum had suddenly gone. In that moment, she realised with the clearest twinge that she had been waiting for her own mother’s return, holding on like a child clutches a favourite toy. It was a hope of the deepest kind, a wish of the sweetest impossibility and something she held so secretly tight.
She held her gaze skywards and watched as the wind drew small intriguing cloud shapes this way and that, disappearing and re-appearing as they passed over the majestic canopy, an ongoing dance binding together the earth and sky.
Her breath caught in her throat as Tara remembered the gentle words of her Nan: her mum was not gone. She was
inside her, alive in her own thoughts and actions, a part of her as tangible as her tears, the very heart of her own heart.
She knew what to do next.
Clambering down, she began to fossick through the bush, foraging for small pieces of the puzzle that formed the jigsaw of her memories, to make her own nest.
A nest she could fly free from.
First she found the red blooms of a bottlebrush, then went looking for a handful of blackberries. She spied a magpie feather and collected that too. At last, she picked some dried eucalyptus leaves from the ground, and a small thin twig, and with these treasures clutched to her chest, took them back inside her little sanctuary.
She searched in her shoulder bag for the photo of her mother and set it down in the corner of the cave. She looked at it for a moment, grief flooding her mind and her eyes.
Carefully arranging the flowers and berries in a circle around the framed image, she stood back and gazed at her handiwork. She then scratched the word ‘mummy’ on the ground with the twig, and sprinkled a pinch of dirt over it, tracing her own writing.
At last she crumbled the eucalyptus leaves slowly over the top.
Tara released her grip, slowly breathed out and finally, let go.
By the time Boo arrived back at the car, Toby had got himself together. The wave of emotion that struck him had passed and now he felt different. He felt angry. He felt tired of forever following adults around, deferring to them as he watched them, in a lot of cases, stumble from one thing to the next. He questioned why he had followed his dad, when he should have stayed with his mum. He felt Tara wouldn’t have run away, if only he had stood up to her dad when he had the chance.
Right now, he could trace many things back to himself. And that wasn’t good.
Boo opened the door and Toby could hear her finishing a conversation with Sergeant Ayres.
‘So what now?’ Boo was asking him.
‘I’m going to take these two back to the station with me,’ he said, his head gesturing towards Tara’s dad and brother. ‘There’s a few questions that need answering before I can decide what’s the best plan.’
Boo turned away from the car and kept her voice low. ‘Oh, I know Tim might carry on at times, but, trust me, there’s no way he’d have put his daughter in harm’s way. He’s overprotective, yes, but anything more than that?’ Shaking her head, she answered her own question.
‘I’ve seen that backfire more often than not,’ the policeman said sagely. ‘Still, I have to keep all avenues open until I get more information. Who she knows, if she’s got friends or other family she might have headed to. Presently I think my general plan would be that tomorrow we’ll broaden the search area to nearby towns, show her photograph around, see if that sparks anything. She can’t have gone far, I’m sure.’
‘No, I can’t imagine she would, it’s just so unlike her,’ Boo said. ‘I’m headed up to Bega to the hospital now ... Toby needs a bit of attention and I’ve got another night shift. I’ll ask around there too, and please, call me there if anything changes.’
The policeman nodded and raised his hand in goodbye.
Boo got back into the car and, without looking at Toby, started the engine, driving out of the car park and back onto the main road.
‘Any sign of her?’ Toby asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping for a different one.
Boo did her best to sound optimistic.
‘No, not yet. But knowing where she isn’t actually does help rule out things, and hopefully points us in the right direction.’ She seemed eager to report to Toby all that had transpired. He wondered if it was a habit of passing on information to the replacement nurse at the end of her shifts.
‘So, firstly, the sighting of Tara was a case of mistaken identity. They worked that out quick smart when they reached the girl and asked what her name was. And the shark, well, Uncle Jacky told us the shark has gone. He reckons he told it to skedaddle outta here! Isn’t that great?’
‘He did?’ Toby asked, astounded.
‘Oh yes. The shark, he calls it narangga, is one of his Aboriginal totems – he understands them, it’s his job to protect them. And us too. It’s all about the balance. That stuff amazes me. Just the idea of people communicating with animals is so incredible to imagine. We’ve got a lot to learn from people like Uncle Jacky.’
‘So he helped save the shark?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. He said it was in the wrong place, away from its mob. Problem is, his boy Allard is working as a bait-boy with the sharkies, and they’re tempting them in so close to the beach. He kept on saying, “wrong reason, wrong place”. He’s not too happy with his young fella, I can tell you that. Families, eh? Always something to deal with.’
She glanced quickly at Toby, and then back at the road, but not before she caught the look on Toby’s face. ‘How are you feeling now?’
He breathed out of his nose, which was still slightly blocked from his earlier tears. ‘Annoyed,’ Toby replied, looking straight ahead.
‘Oh, why’s that?’
‘Because,’ he said flatly.
Boo squinted, partly reacting to Toby’s change of mood, but also from the sun glare, bouncing from the bonnet and through the windscreen.
‘Why, Toby? Tell me.’
He took a long breath in. ‘Because of everything.’
Boo relaxed her hold on the steering wheel, her head tilted and her shoulders dropped. ‘Yes, you told me some things but ... you know you can tell me anything.’
Toby felt his face quickly contract and again he found warm tears in his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘No, Toby, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. But please, tell me what’s going on, mate.’
‘Argghhh,’ he said, his mind racing but connecting to nothing. ‘Just everything ...’ he repeated. No other words were forthcoming, even though he felt desperate to say them. To anyone, to Boo ... to his dad.
‘Look, it’s a stressful time. Your friend is missing ... we’re all doing everything to find her. We really are, you know,’ Boo reasoned.
‘It’s not just that ... it’s ...’ Suddenly the words tumbled out. ‘It’s because of Dad bringing me here and then not having any time for me. Because ... oh, I don’t know. I’m not even sure what is going on in his head. He’s so busy with Judy and everything else he doesn’t seem to notice I exist any more. And that’s even after I’d given up everything because I felt sorry for him. Geez ...’ he said, looking out the window, his face hot and flushed.
He watched as they passed by a family walking down for a swim in a lively swarm of beach towels and foam surfboards.
Toby’s eyes returned to the road ahead as he felt the ocean inside him rising further still. ‘I thought he was lonely ... but the next minute he’s getting married? And then ... then Mum having to pick up the pieces ... and now, some new school I don’t know on the other side of town. And ...’ He was sobbing now. ‘Because ... now, I don’t think I belong anywhere any more ... to anyone ...’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
He turned to Boo. He knew his nose was running and his eyes were a furious blur, and a pang of self-doubt made him feel hot and cold at once and his body tightened in awkwardness.
Boo took a moment to take it all in, her own feelings veering between pity and anger. They passed the sign that said Bega District Hospital and Boo pulled into the car park, the front wheel bumping as it hit the driveway.
She parked in the space with a sign ‘Visiting Medical Officer’ and turned to Toby, placing her hand on his forearm. ‘Toby, it’s okay. You have a lot on your plate at the moment so don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not on your own. Not even a bit.’
Toby shook his head. ‘Okay,’ he replied quietly.
‘Now, first things first. Let’s get you fixed up. Then we’ll find your dad. He will listen, I can promise you that much, Toby. And I’m here to tell you that I’m going to stick by you and do whatever I can to find Tara. Alrigh
t?’
Toby felt on the verge of tears once more, but it passed as quickly as it appeared.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ He attempted a smile. ‘Thanks a lot.’
They made their way through the wide door of the hospital entrance and into the crisp antiseptic air, following the yellow painted line on the gleaming lino floor to the emergency ward.
‘Wait here and I’ll get the doctor to come and have a look at you.’
Toby barely had a chance to take in his surroundings before the silver-haired doctor in his starched white coat arrived and they were on their way into a small curtained area with an examination bed. There was an array of hoses, tubes and boxes of needles, bandages, splints. There were assorted gadgets of different diameters and Toby had no idea what their uses were.
As he sat on the edge of the bed, Boo briefed the doctor on his injury. The doctor looked kindly at Toby as he listened, nodding attentively. ‘Toby is a twelve-year-old boy currently on holidays who has suffered some initial lacerations while bushwalking which has been further exacerbated by something of ideopathic origin. He’s in moderate pain and has a mild fever ...’
‘Toby?’ a voice called. ‘Toby, is that you?’
Toby turned to see his dad dressed in a hospital gown. He noticed a few stitches above his dad’s upper lip and a dark bruise with yellowing patches on his cheek.
‘Dad!’
‘Toby! Heavens! Well, I’ll be! I was just on my way to see Judy and heard someone being brought in ... and then I heard your name. How incredible! I mean, are you alright?’ He looked to the doctor and then to Boo.
Toby found himself staring at his dad, the heat of the pain from his leg transforming into a white-hot anger at his father’s cheerful lack of concern.
Boo, sensing the tension, moved in between them.
‘Mr Rhone, do you remember me? You asked me to check on Toby last night?’
‘Ah yes, Sue isn’t it? Of course I remember. Thanks so much for that.’
The Days of In Between Page 8