Sandy Feet

by Nikki Buick

  ‘We were going to go out to see the Gorge tomorrow,’ she mused.

  ‘Well, I can go and tell you whether it’s worth it or not,’ I suggested.

  ‘My dad’s a ranger,’ Sophie added, pleadingly.

  Mum gave Sophie the once over. Today she had a nice colourful loose shirt over her bikini so she looked more ‘mother’ presentable.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Mum hummed, looking across to where Pippa was dipping a tentative toe into the water.

  ‘I’d have to meet your father first,’ Mum said in a whining voice and then she took off her sunglasses in a rush as if she was Clark Kent revealing his true identity. ‘I know,’ she hooted. ‘We’ll come too. Your dad can show us all around.’

  I gave one of those inward groans that you did a lot when your parents said something totally embarrassing.

  ‘Um, sure,’ Sophie shrugged. ‘Dad’s just inside the pool office. He’s organising a fundraiser for the council. I’ll get him to come out and say hi.’

  After some awkward introductions, Mum had the family packed up with water flasks and hiking shoes. Mum seemed to like Sophie but I could tell she was a little wary. Mothers are like that around girls. Every girl looked like a threat for their son’s affections or something. That was why mothers-in-law got such a bad rap. No girl is good enough for my son, and I guess vice versa. But Sophie was so bubbly and outgoing that it was hard not to be drawn to her magnetic charm. Even Step seemed to warm to her and I felt a rumble of jealousy.

  We rambled west out of town, following the sun as it folded down over the mountains. Sophie’s dad was a wild-looking fellow with a bushy beard and eyebrows to match. He reminded me of a big grizzly bear. His name was Barney. Mum had somewhat reluctantly let me travel in the truck with Sophie and her dad. It was only a 15-minute drive, he’d explained. Mum and the goof brigade rattled along in the Rangy behind us, waving like dashboard dummies if I ever felt foolish enough to look through the back window.

  ‘Bit different from Brisbane, round these parts, eh?’ Barney laughed with a gravelly voice.

  The truck bounced like a ride at Dreamworld and I nodded as I watched the scenery bound by. The trees were old and twisted and the rainforest stretching alongside the road was lush and green.

  The car park was chocker-block but we found a spot up under a swag of trees. It was shady and cool and brush turkeys ran about like busy tour guides, this way and that, looking very pleased with themselves.

  ‘I hate those dirty little scabs,’ I grumbled. ‘They’re relentless. Everywhere you go.’

  ‘I like them. I think they’re funny.’

  Sophie slapped my wrist after I threw a twig at one.

  Mum fussed to get the baby into a backpack on Step’s back while Pippa mimicked the whips of bird sounds that spilled from the forest.

  ‘I’ll take your mob along the shorter track and show ’em this an’ that,’ Barney nodded. ‘You kids run ahead, eh? Sophie knows this forest well and you’ll do the longer circuit in half the time that we could. You don’t want to be hanging with us boring old farts. We’ll meet you back here in an hour,’ my friend’s dad said gruffly and strode off toward my folks.

  I looked at my watch. Just after three. I grinned at Sophie.

  ‘We’re going ahead,’ I called to Mum. ‘Barney’ll take you guys and give you the proper guided tour.’

  ‘Stick to the path!’ Mum called after us and waved.

  She was so different to Sophie’s dad. Mum was such a stress-head. Barney had it going on. He knew that we were too old to be dragging behind the little family. I think he also picked up on the vibe between Sophie and me. There was definitely a vibe. Something electric.

  ‘Where to? You’re the guide.’ I grinned at Sophie.

  She led me over a wooden walkway that went into the forest. We pressed through the crush of daytripping tourists. The whirr of camera shutters and the explosions of flashlights were punctuated with voices gasping about how absolutely gorgeous everything was.

  ‘This is the beginning of the Daintree. Like, the southern bit,’ Sophie explained. ‘Come on, we’ll have to hurry if we want to swim. We can sneak off the track a bit and have a dip, we’ll just have to wait until Dad and your folks have passed ’cos we’re not technically allowed to.’

  We shuffled past slow visitors and scrambled along the track. The water tumbled over giant granite boulders to our right and seemed to give off an eerie steam as it surged downstream. I could see why Sophie had called it magic. There was something ancient and mysterious about the place. The colours were all shades of green. Even the rocks seemed tinged with green. I couldn’t tell whether it was velvety moss or shadows. The sound of the river was musical. It whooshed and gurgled like an alien orchestra. The chatter of tourists complemented the squeal of birds and the river provided the deep bass section that rumbled up through your bones.

  Sophie was disappearing far up ahead and I had to run and awkwardly dodge other gawkers. We finally got to the rock pools that Sophie had told me about but there was a big warning sign that said that due to the rain a few days earlier, the pools were not safe. The pools were really just a calmer spot in the greater churning gorge, still very dangerous-looking. A sign mentioned that there had been fatalities at the site.

  ‘I’m game if you are,’ I said, sounding braver than I felt. Showing off a bit, I guess.

  Sophie looked at the water. It looked safe enough. She frowned and re-read the sign. ‘Nah, better not.’ She shook her head. Her eyes were as dark as the forest that fell away behind her. ‘Dad’d go mental at me. He’s a ranger and … well … you know … maybe we can come up here some other time without him.’

  We walked back against the flow of people and Sophie took me over a suspension bridge, which wobbled a bit as we crossed over the water. The vapour rising from the green shallows made it look as if the stream was hot – like a giant frypan of simmering liquid.

  ‘Your parents seem nice,’ she said as we walked back to the track.

  We jumped off the wooden track and I followed Sophie under the bridge to a spot on the mossy rocks overlooking the steady rush of water. We clambered up and over a rock to sit on a ledge and sat with our arms wrapped around our raised knees. The water surge was powerful and sprayed our faces with ice-cold mist.

  ‘He’s not my dad. He’s my stepfather,’ I said woodenly.

  ‘Hey, I live with my stepmum. She’s the only mum I know, though. My real mum died when I was a baby. Where’s your real dad?’

  Where’s my dad?

  There it was. The question that I had dreaded anyone asking me. No-one at my school had ever asked me that question because everyone knew the answer. Even if they didn’t read the papers, their parents did. There was always a murmur behind my back wherever I went. Wasn’t he the boy … isn’t his father the one … The one good thing about this crazy road trip was that I didn’t have to listen to the gossip and sympathy that sizzled beneath school-life.

  Mum told me I was imagining it but even Jesse looked at me all funny on Father’s Day. He’d never ever say anything. No-one ever did. It was always an unspoken glaze of pity. Perhaps that made it even more painful than it was. Like a blind pimple that couldn’t find relief. I thought about the lightness I felt in Bowen at Mother Beddock rock and I wondered if releasing some of the built-up poison wasn’t such a bad idea. Better out than in, Shrek always said. I put my hands over my mouth and took a deep breath. Sophie lifted her eyebrows and waited.

  ‘My dad’s in jail.’

  There. I said it.

  Sophie nodded thoughtfully. No sign of shock or horror. Just a thoughtful nod. ‘Bummer. I’ve got a brother in prison too. It sucks. What’d your dad do?’

  I almost wanted to hug her for her laid-back don’t give a crap attitude. I stopped and stared at her and then smiled. I’d thought the sky would cave in if I said it out lou
d. But to Sophie it was just a bit of information. No big deal at all. I wasn’t like a leper or an outcast. It was just life – a slice of life. Not a very nice slice of life, but reality just the same. I felt like a bag of rocks had tumbled off my shoulders.

  ‘It was a car accident. He’d been drinking.’

  Sophie nodded and touched my elbow gently and gave it a little rub. I got that weird butterfly feeling in my belly and my skin tickled where she touched me. I went on. ‘Four teenagers in the other car died. I nearly died. Dad hardly got a scratch.’

  I thought I’d be able to say it just fine but the tears crept out. I had to put my head down between my knees.

  Sophie leaned toward me and rubbed my back. ‘Tell me about it,’ she whispered. ‘It’ll feel better. I promise.’

  *

  After the scream, I felt myself being pulled and tugged from the car. My head felt fuzzy and I had a sweet taste in my mouth. The pain began in my shoulder and pushed down into my ribs. Things came in bursts, punctuated by sleepy blankets of darkness and silence. I knew Mum was nearby and heard her crying and yelling. There was also the sound of someone vomiting. It might have been me but I didn’t think so.

  And then I heard Dad’s voice. He roared like a wounded animal. I’d never heard such a thing and it terrified me. I tried to blink but my eyes were sticky and wet. I felt hands touching me and a hard thing being wedged about my neck. I wanted Mum to hold my hand but I couldn’t see her and I kept wondering what was going on. Nothing made any sense. The blue and red lights were burning through my eyelids. Something sharp pressed into my hand and a plastic mask was pushed against my face.

  Gradually, I began to focus more and saw Mum’s face leaning close. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I caught a glimpse of the road. There was glass. Metal. White sheets on the ground. And then I saw Dad. I was going backwards into the back of an ambulance. Everything seemed to freeze-frame into sharp, clear focus for a moment. Dad. I saw Dad. His face twisted and grotesque.

  ‘I’m sorry, Hunter,’ he screamed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Then a curtain of darkness fell like a chapter of my life had just closed.

  *

  ‘Mum came across the accident on her way to pick me up from Dad’s,’ I explained to Sophie, sniffing back snotty tears. ‘She’d seen Dad’s car and just lost it. I’d been trapped in the car for over an hour while they tried to cut me loose.’

  ‘That must’ve been horrible for her,’ Sophie said. ‘And your poor dad.’

  I looked across at her. No-one had ever said that. Mum had ranted and raved and all but called Dad a mass murderer. He’d nearly killed you. She couldn’t forgive him for that. Ever. And she didn’t want me to either.

  ‘He’d been drinking. Not a lot, but he was over the limit,’ I said, hearing my mother’s voice. Perhaps she had done a bit of programming.

  ‘Yeah, but he’s got to live with that for the rest of his life.’ Sophie shook her head and looked out over the green gorge. ‘Imagine the nightmares he must have.’

  I could. I really could. But it was the first time I’d ever considered that Dad’s nightmares might have been even worse than mine.

  THE DAINTREE

  ‘What’s gotten into you, Hunter?’ Mum laughed. ‘You seem like a new kid. You seem … almost … happy.’

  ‘I am,’ I smiled cryptically. I did feel unburdened by opening up to a friend.

  ‘He’s in love,’ Pippa taunted.

  I grabbed a handful of sand from beside my foot and threw it at her. She screamed and tried to run.

  ‘That’s sick, Pippa. I am not!’ I yelled back at her, my cheeks heating up. ‘You’re such an idiot.’

  ‘Am not!’

  ‘Are too!’

  ‘Am not!’

  ‘Are too!’

  ‘Don’t ever call your sister an idiot. Never!’ Mum shouted at me.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with puppy love at your age. That’s normal, Hunter,’ Step said as he flipped the sausages. ‘I had a massive crush on a girl when I was 16.’

  ‘Would everyone give me a break? I am not in love. Geez!’ I kicked the dirt and headed back to the tent.

  ‘We’re leaving for the Daintree in half an hour,’ Mum called. ‘Come and eat something.’

  I wasn’t hungry.

  ‘I was going to go to the pool later today,’ I called back.

  ‘Nope,’ Mum answered. ‘Today is family day. We’re going to find some crocodiles, hey Pippa?’

  ‘I’m Bindi Irwin and Dad’s Steve,’ Pippa blabbered. ‘That makes you Terri, Mum, and Ranger can be Bob Irwin.’

  ‘So who’s Hunter then?’ Mum laughed.

  ‘I’m the crocodile, I guess,’ I said ducking under the tent flap. Snap.

  The trip out to the Daintree started off as acre after acre of cane fields. There were enough to put you to sleep. Sophie and the gang were probably at school in Mossman, learning boring stuff. I was really starting to miss school on a chronic level. Classes were pretty boring but we had plenty of fun at lunchtime. Playing soccer. Perving on the girls. Laughing about stupid teachers. I couldn’t believe I was fantasising about going to school! Sophie was also in year ten and she was studying Hamlet as well.

  I’d gotten to the end of Hamlet and was hardly surprised that Shakespeare had killed everybody off. It was a death fest. Cheap fictional device if you asked me, and I planned on writing something clever along those lines for my assignment. It just seemed a bit of a cop-out. When in doubt, kill everyone. In real life they’d all be getting counselled by some do-gooder psychologist.

  ‘Will we be back in town by 3.30 because I told my friends I’d be at the pool?’ I asked Mum.

  ‘Hunter and Sophie sitting in a tree—’ Pippa began to sing and I put my hand over her mouth. She gave me a playful bite.

  ‘Yuk! Don’t!’ I yelled at her.

  ‘Stop it,’ Mum hissed. ‘I don’t know, Hunter. Maybe. But don’t make plans with your friends without asking us.’

  ‘It wasn’t a plan. Like a contract. I just said I’d probably be there.’

  ‘Well, they can all just swim about without you if we don’t make it back in time.’

  Damn. A whole day of wandering about the bush looking for crocodiles. I’d seen plenty of crocodiles before. At Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary I dropped my hat into an enclosure and a big salty ate it. At Australia Zoo I’d seen them dance up high to snatch dead chickens. They all looked the same. Big. Ugly. With toothy smiles.

  ‘Have you thought about what you might do your English essay on yet, Hunter?’ Step asked, changing the subject. ‘Something life changing?’

  ‘No.’ That was the truth. I hadn’t given it even a moment’s thought.

  ‘Dad says my reading is getting good, Hunny,’ Pippa said with a huge, proud grin. ‘Says I’m a good student. Says I’m getting better ’cos I listen and do my homework. Not like you!’

  Pippa was getting quite good at reading but her showing off got a bit lame after a while. I was always up around the top of my class in English and History but my A’s and B’s got ignored and swamped by Pippa’s bogus C’s. She was only doing year three work even though she was in year five and if she passed anything at all it was cause for celebration. I knew she had more challenges, and all that, but just sometimes it might have been nice for someone to celebrate my achievements. If I said anything like that out loud though, I’d cop it for being a selfish dickhead.

  ‘The Daintree is actually the name of a little town as well as the whole national park,’ Mum said, sounding like a travel brochure.

  ‘There are species in the forest that haven’t even been discovered,’ Step added.

  Who were these people? Documentary hosts? If they hadn’t been discovered, how did he know they were there? Really. What did he take me for? Adults could be so patronising.r />
  ‘Maybe we’ll discover some new butterfly or bird,’ he went on.

  I could see myself underlining the word patronising in my journal tonight. I willed him to stop speaking before I leapt out of the moving vehicle.

  The forest thickened as we began to descend into the Daintree, leaving the cane fields behind. A lush and fertile entity crushed about the car, wrapping us in its arms. The rainforest felt pressing and a little bit claustrophobic. The air smelled mouldy. We descended down a narrow road and ended up in the nothing-much-going-on-here town of Daintree.

  ‘What’s that?’ Mum pointed up ahead.

  I craned my neck out of the window and let out a groan of disbelief. Perched on top of a roof was a giant fish. As the car neared, I read that it was the Big Barramundi. Here, in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of the wilderness, was another ridiculous ‘big thing’. The silvery creature glinted in the sunlight and winked at me. What was it with Australians and their obsession with big fibreglass things? There was the Big Pineapple, the Big Banana, the Big Potato and just about anything else. The big fish was kind of creepy really.

  We parked in the main street, which was just a yawn of a road. It led straight down to the river. Pippa hassled Mum and Step for an ice-block from the souvenir shop but got told to wait until after we’d done the river cruise.

  ‘We’ll come back and get some postcards too. You can write to Nanna and Pop and your friends from school.’

  ‘Both Nannas and Pops?’ I muttered.

  Mum gave me a look. It was a look of surprise. She’d not once encouraged me to keep contact with my paternal grandparents but it was starting to dawn on me that she’d done that on purpose. To be cut out of their grandchildren’s lives just because my mother was angry with my father, was unfair. Grandparents could be boring but sometimes it was interesting to hear their old-fashioned stories and feel some kind of generational heritage.

  Mum didn’t answer me but fell into an obvious and rather thoughtful silence.

  ‘There are a few different cruises to choose from,’ said Step. ‘Let’s hurry down there and see when the next one leaves.’