Barney grasps two holds with his hands, and balances his feet on another two. ‘What now?’
‘Don’t look down in case you worry about falling, and don’t look up and think how good it’ll be when you get to the top. The best thing to do is to focus on your next hold.’
He moves his foot to another hold and adjusts his hand positions. ‘Like this?’
‘That’s great. But try to point your knees towards the wall. That way, you’ll keep your hips close to it too. It makes things easier on your fingers.’
‘I feel like a frog.’
‘If you lean back and hang on with your hands, you’ll exhaust yourself.’ I move nearer to the wall. ‘You’re ready to reach for another hold. Take the closest one, so you don’t overreach and lose your balance.’
He looks to his left and extends his arm. ‘This one?’
‘Push up from your legs if you can, rather than pulling up by your arms.’
‘It’s easier to use my hands.’
‘How many pull-ups can you do in a row?’
‘Two or three.’
‘That’s why you can’t rely on your arms. Try to think of your fingers as hooks on the holds. They should keep you balanced but not much else.’
‘The footholds should be bigger.’
‘It’s enough that they hold your weight. If you can, drop your heels lower than your toes.’
He stretches out his right arm. ‘Can’t reach.’
‘What about the hold to the right of your foot? Move your foot onto that and you’ll be able to stretch out further on that side.’
He does as I suggest, moving his foot and then his hand. ‘Got it!’ he says.
‘Soon you’ll visualise where your hands and feet will go before you start to climb. Foot, foot, hand, hand, or foot, hand, foot, hand. You’ll work out a rhythm, relying mostly on your legs.’
Barney is a couple of metres up the wall when he lifts his shoulder to swipe sweat from his face.
I glance at my watch. ‘Can you remember what to say when you need a break?’
‘Take.’
‘If you feel comfortable with one limb off the wall, you’ve found a good resting place.’ I pull on the rope and lock it off. ‘Put your weight on your feet and stretch out your arms, one by one, to give your biceps and hands a rest. Always keep three points of contact.’
‘A triangle, right?’
‘Sapphie!’ Mr Chambers calls.
By the time I check the ropes and look towards the path, Matts has his arm out, blocking Mr Chambers’s path. I can’t hear what he says, but the politician nods and puts his hands behind his back. I focus on Barney again.
‘When you rest, it’s a good time to reassess your route. You might want to stick to the one you’ve chosen, or find another one that’s easier or harder.’
‘Easier would be good.’
I smile. ‘You’re on the easiest one.’
‘My arms are burning. Fuck, they hurt.’
‘Give them a shake to dislodge the lactic acid. Other than your language, you’re doing really well.’
‘My fingers kill too.’
‘They’ll strengthen in time. And these are just the physical challenges. Don’t forget the mental ones. Where will you go next?’
‘Up?’
‘That’s the idea. Set your feet first, and don’t forget to bend your knees. Then shift your body weight in that direction. Try to relax, Barney, and not hold on too tight.’
Barney puts one foot on a hold, and then positions his other foot. He grabs a hold above his head.
‘You almost moved your hand and foot at the same time, which is really good. Now reset your feet and reach for another hold with your hand.’
He inches his way across and up the wall, wiping the sweat from his hands on his pants when he can.
‘I didn’t want to complicate things, but next time you climb, you can use chalk. It adds friction between your hands and the holds.’
He gulps a couple of times.
‘Try not to hold your breath. It’ll deprive your muscles of oxygen.’
‘They need all the air they can get.’
‘You’ll climb faster soon enough. Which means you’ll use less energy while working out where to go next.’
‘Take!’
I steady the ropes. ‘I think that’s enough for today.’
‘I’m not at the top yet.’
‘And you haven’t learnt how to come down. Can you remember what you say when you’re ready to do that?’
‘Get me out of here?’
‘It’s “Ready to be lowered.” Repeat it so you get used to it.’
‘You’re not going to let me drop, are you?’
‘I won’t do anything without warning you first.’
He looks down and grimaces. ‘Not sure I like the sound of that.’
‘I haven’t lost anyone yet. Say the words so they become a habit.’
‘Ready to be lowered.’
‘Lowering.’
‘What do I do?’
‘You sit back in your harness and let go of the wall. Great. Now put your feel flat against the surface.’
He looks down again, and quickly looks up. ‘Sheesh.’
‘Take as much time as you need.’ As he inches slowly down the wall, I let the rope slip through my fingers.
‘Whoa.’
‘You’re doing really well. If you put your hands on your harness instead of waving them around, you might feel more secure.’
As soon as he gets to the ground he laughs, collapsing in a heap as he undoes his helmet. When sweat runs down his face, he lifts his T-shirt to wipe it.
‘That was awesome,’ he says, pushing himself to his feet again and picking up his water bottle.
‘I’ll make a ninja out of you yet.’ When I hold out my hand, we high-five. ‘Fantastic work.’
Mr Chambers clears his throat behind us. ‘Hello, Sapphie.’
I’m still smiling when I turn. Matts’s eyes go from my eyes to my mouth, and then back to my eyes. What are his thoughts? What are mine?
Do you remember climbing together? I remember everything. And now there’s more. I know what it feels like to kiss you.
‘Hello,’ I croak.
‘Sapphire.’
I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants as I turn to Barney. ‘This is Matts, Barney. Though you should probably call him Dr—’
‘Matts.’
‘Right. You will have seen Mr Chambers at school assemblies.’
Barney is dripping with sweat and hopping uncertainly from foot to foot, so it’s not surprising Mr Chambers’s hand stays by his side.
‘Your first climb?’ Matts says. ‘Not bad.’
Barney smiles broadly as he bumps his fist against Matts’s offered hand. ‘Miss Brown was ace.’
Matts smiles politely as he turns to me. ‘You’re an experienced climber, Sapphire?’
Gum trees? Climbing walls? I take a deep breath. ‘Yes.’
Matts and Mr Chambers are still inspecting the building works when Peter leaves an hour later, Mary waving happily out of the window and Mischief standing calmly in the float behind the ute.
I tighten my sweater around my waist and hook my arm through a strap of my bag, bulging with climbing gear, and then make my way to the road. As I pass the building, I cross my fingers. ‘Please don’t come out yet.’
Within seconds I hear them behind me. ‘Sapphire. Wait.’
I stop and turn as Matts veers away from Mr Chambers who, with his phone to his ear, continues on the path towards the carpark. Matts’s zipped-up hoodie emphasises the width of his shoulders and narrowness of his hips. Does he know that? Or does he dress to be comfortable? His boots are scuffed.
The sun, fuzzy around the edges, is a fading globe behind him. ‘Chambers will drive you home.’
I push the bag further up my arm to my shoulder. ‘I’ll enjoy the walk.’
‘Thanks for letting me join the committee.’
I lift my chin.
‘It was a consensus decision.’
When my bag slips from my shoulder, I pull it up again. A ute rumbling down the road trails clouds of dust behind it.
‘Sapphire?’ He frowns and lifts a hand. ‘Are you hurt?’
My bag falls to the ground with a thump as I yank my bra strap and the neck of my T-shirt over my shoulder. I drop to my haunches, open my bag and pretend to search.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I thought …’
He couldn’t have seen many of the scars. Hair that’s come loose from my plait falls over my face. My bra strap slips down again. As I lift my arm, my taped finger catches on the bag handle.
‘Ow!’ My eyes water and I blink. ‘Damn.’ Holding my finger tightly in my hand, I stand.
He extends his hand again. ‘Did you hurt it climbing?’
‘I came down too fast.’
‘Where else do you climb?’
‘Down by the river.’
A flock of galahs gather by the side of the road, their pink and grey feathers bright against the bitumen.
‘When you climbed with my friends and me, you were always first to the top.’
A galah dips his head, his baby pink crest rising up like a fan. ‘I had to prove I was capable.’
‘Not to me.’ He picks up my bag and hands it to me, careful not to touch my fingers. ‘The committee meeting tomorrow week. Do I go to the pub?’
As soon as I get home, I send an email.
From: Sapphie
To: Mr Chambers, Cassie, Luke, Gus, Matts
Re: Committee meeting 19 September at 8pm
Looking forward to seeing you all (except Mr Chambers) at the Royal Hotel on Saturday. Agenda attached. The main item for discussion is raising the committee’s profile so we can more effectively get our message across to the government. As Gus recently said (in a slightly different context) we have to take the bull by the horns.
CHAPTER
19
Prima is becoming accustomed to the sights and sounds of our outings along the road, walking calmly beside me and pricking her ears when we turn at the bend to come home, and nickering a greeting when she sees Sonnet. Her new halter, black with a bright blue headband, looks smart against her light brown coat and dark mane and forelock. I pull up the hood of my jacket to keep out the evening chill as we walk past the farmhouse.
She sneaks a mouthful of grass as I open the gate, chomping happily as I lead her through the paddock to the grey gum. As she snuffles in her hay, Lollopy, who finished his dinner an hour ago, watches longingly. Instead of considering him warily as she would have done a few weeks ago, as if afraid he might approach, Prima turns her back.
Now that Joel’s father is doing well with gamblers anonymous, Joel has moved back home and visits Prima daily. When I handed him her lead rope this morning, she stood quietly as she was groomed. Afterwards she followed him, toey but compliant, around the paddock. She looked curiously over the fence at the kids and other horses.
A kookaburra calls out loud and long from the red gum and his family joins in at the chorus. ‘It might be time to extend your circle of friends,’ I tell Prima as I lift her hoof to check for stones. ‘Maybe you’ll make a therapy horse after all.’
By the time I arrive at the pub, the trivia game has already started. Gus waves his arm above his head when he sees me at the door. ‘Sapphie,’ he hisses. ‘Over here.’
‘Hello,’ I whisper to Luke and Ma and Pa Hargreaves. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
An hour later, most of the tables are discussing history dates—quietly, so other tables don’t overhear what answers they settle on. Hugo, sitting with his brother and sister-in-law, laughs loudly and bangs the table, grinning and making a face when I look his way.
When the door to the street swings wide and lets in the breeze, Ma Hargreaves nudges me under the table. She tidies her wavy grey hair. ‘Look, Sapphie. Dr Laaksonen. Gus tells me you’ll be seeing him later tonight.’
Matts’s hands are in his pockets as he walks past the lounge towards the bar. ‘I’ll see him at the committee meeting, yes.’ I tap the piece of paper in front of her. ‘Please, Ma, look at the questions, not him.’
‘He’s a handsome young man with a very good job. There aren’t so many of them in Horseshoe that we can afford to look the other way. Even though’—she lowers her voice—‘it’s a Saturday night. When I was a girl, men wore a jacket and tie for special occasions. He could have gone to a little more trouble with his outfit.’
‘Please stop staring.’
‘Sapphie!’ Gus hisses again, nudging my foot. ‘How many men did Horseshoe lose at Gallipoli? What do you reckon?’ Gus takes trivia more seriously than most of us, tugging at his hair whenever the scores are close.
‘Two men on the beaches,’ I say, ‘three including the soldier who died a month later in the field hospital.’
‘Write that down, Bob. Sapphie says three, and she’s the best of us at history.’
Besides a few lean years during the Depression in the 1930s, the Royal has been open for almost a century. I’m not sure how long Saturday trivia nights have been going on, but the tradition was well established by the time I came to Horseshoe.
‘Last questions,’ the host calls out.
I’m helping Gus—failing dismally to hide his disappointment with second place—separate the tables and tidy the chairs when Matts walks into the lounge. When I hold out my hand, he hesitates.
‘Your finger?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
His grip is firm, but he holds on to Gus’s hand for far longer than he held mine.
The three of us lift one of the larger tables to a nook at the back of the lounge, close to a stained glass window that looks out onto the street. People will return to the other tables later on, but it’s relatively private back here.
‘Sapphie.’ Cassie puts her bag on a chair before hugging me briefly. She stands back and looks me up and down. ‘That shirt looks great with jeans.’ She touches my sleeve. ‘Silk, isn’t it?’
The cream fabric has spilled out at my hip and I tuck it in. ‘I haven’t done my washing this week. I didn’t have anything else.’
Cassie’s gaze goes to Matts and then returns to me. When she winks, a blush moves up my neck. I hadn’t done my washing, but …
You’re afraid to be beautiful.
Gus pulls out chairs for Cassie and me, before sitting down himself. As soon as Luke joins us, Gus links his hands. ‘Let’s get to it.’
Matts takes care to keep his legs on his side of the table when he sits opposite me, even though mine are tucked under my chair. Luke sits next to Matts, opposite Gus. Cassie, sitting at the end of the table, takes off her brass-buttoned navy jacket and hangs it over the back of her chair. ‘All set,’ she says, straightening her scarf.
I take a sheaf of papers from my folder. ‘I’ve already emailed a summary of the main points raised in our last meeting, and here it is again. I thought we could use it as a guide as we think about ways we could raise the committee’s profile.’
Gus pulls out his magnifying device and peers at the paper. ‘I’ve got a question straight up.’ He sticks out his chin. ‘How are the rivers and wetlands ever supposed to get the water they need when the government controls the water flow?’
‘In the last drought, water scheduled for the river and marshes was diverted to the towns,’ Cassie says.
‘Too much land clearing south of the wetlands, that’s what I reckon,’ Gus says. ‘Even when it rains, there’s not enough trees to keep moisture in the ground.’
Cassie taps her pen on the table. ‘Raising funds for projects that won’t bring immediate results is next to impossible.’
My shirt has pulled out of my jeans again. I tuck it in as I turn to Matts. ‘When you gave your presentation, you said the secretariat helps countries to restore, rehabilitate and maintain wetland environments. For that, you need community support.’
‘Governments won’t
initiate change without it.’
I flick through the calendar on my phone. ‘With the committee’s help, I’d like to organise a series of day trips to the river towards the end of October. Showing people, especially city people, what we’re up against, is better than telling them about it. We need a long-term strategy, not short-term solutions in response to a crisis. We have to convince the government to fund research and implement new initiatives before the next drought.’
Matts leans back in his chair. ‘How do you do that with day trips?’
‘People get told about dam levels, but showing them what the river looks like, even when we’re not in drought, will be instructive.’
‘Reckon the farmers would be happy to see you,’ Gus says.
‘Mr Chambers has contacts with manufacturers and other industries that operate in the towns and employ workers in the region.’
‘Environmental groups, sustainable fishing organisations, ornithologists and tourism operators, there are so many interests that simply want to be heard,’ Cassie says.
I turn to Luke. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Landcare groups, farmers and environmentalists are keen to do restorative work, but that gets pushed aside when something more pressing comes up. I can back up your arguments with facts and figures.’
‘All the government wanted to do after the last drought was build another dam,’ Gus says. ‘That’s no good for the land.’
Matts folds his page in half. ‘Without support from senior levels of government, you’d be wasting your time.’
When Gus harrumphs, I put my hand on his arm. ‘Matts might have a point, Gus. Besides Horseshoe locals and the intern at the Dubbo Daily, I’m not sure my day trips will garner much interest. But,’ I smile at Matts, ‘if you were to come with me, people would take notice.’
The pen in his hand is dark grey. Brushed silver? Platinum? He lines it up so it’s parallel to the edge of the table. ‘How many days?’ he says.
‘Four or five will be enough.’
‘I have an alternative.’ He picks up his phone and considers the screen. ‘You and I can go to the wetlands together.’
‘What?’ My heart rate doubles. I swallow twice. ‘That’s hundreds of kilometres away.’
‘You said four or five days.’
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