Wreck

by Fleur Ferris

  I lay my head against Zel’s chest and he smooths my hair off my face. Neither of us wants to let go.

  The hospital is new and modern and much smaller than I expected. We ask for Bruce Carrington and are directed to a waiting room on the second level. We sit down and drink dreadful coffee and watch the news channel.

  The footage of Knox being escorted to the car plays over and over and I can’t drag my eyes away from it.

  ‘I used to want to report only good news,’ I say, ‘but that was two days ago, when I was much younger.’

  Zel smiles. ‘I think it’s a nice idea,’ he says. ‘People need to hear good news.’

  ‘But sometimes there’s good and bad news in the same story. Like, in this story the bad news is that innocent people died, and the good news is that an innocent man is free and the murderer has been caught. How would I report this story?’

  ‘You would make the innocent man your number one focus.’ He grins when he realises what he said and I laugh, feeling warmth flush into my cheeks.

  ‘What about you? Will you go and work for your family now?’

  ‘With Knox and Carrington out of the picture, I think Dad and Uncle Oliver will be forced to come out of hiding and go back to work for a while. It could be good for them, but it’s not for me. I know what I want to do, I’m just not sure which way I should go about doing it.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I want to help people – refugees, those destitute, powerless and terrified. But do I study politics or law? Do I become a doctor? An aid worker? Or do I use my rich, white privilege and family business to raise awareness and funds to help employ lawyers and doctors and aid workers? I need to figure out how I can make the greatest impact.’

  ‘Wow … that’s fantastic. Can you get advice from someone?’

  ‘Carrington. That’s why I’m here.’

  I laugh and punch him on the arm.

  ‘What? Did you think I was here out of the goodness of my heart?’ His face cracks into a smile. ‘God, how long will his surgery take?’ Tears fill his eyes and he looks away.

  We sit and wait, drink more dreadful coffee, continue to watch the news, and check our watches.

  ‘There’s something about time and hospitals,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, it’s like hospitals are some kind of slow-mo capsule.’

  ‘Which is the exact opposite of exam rooms.’

  ‘Definitely. Exam rooms are on fast-mo.’

  ‘And holidays … they go fast too.’

  ‘Mine didn’t,’ Zel says. We fall quiet. ‘I’m sorry you missed O-Week.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I say. ‘It was more like OMG-Week.’

  We laugh, but it trails off quickly and Zel checks his watch again.

  ‘How long has it been now?’

  ‘Four hours.’

  We straighten in our seats when we hear footsteps near the door. Without thinking I clasp onto Zel’s forearm, expecting someone in hospital uniform with news, but it isn’t. It’s Zel’s parents and another guy who looks about fifty.

  The energy in the room suddenly becomes stifled. Zel stands so I do too.

  ‘Felix, hi.’ Zel greets the guy and shakes his hand. He then looks at his parents, ‘Mum, Dad.’

  Zel’s mother looks like she’s about to cry. She steps in to hug Zel but he stiffens and suddenly the whole thing is totally awkward.

  ‘Gosh, the last time I saw you, William, you were only about this high,’ says Felix. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Zel says. ‘Felix, this is Tamara. Tamara, this is Felix, Carrington’s brother, who must have just flown in from …’

  ‘Japan,’ Felix says.

  ‘And my parents, Jacki and Damien,’ Zel continues.

  ‘Hi.’ I smile weakly.

  ‘Tamara,’ Felix says and takes my hand, ‘I’ve only received sketchy details but the police tell me you were by my brother’s side from the moment he was injured. I can’t thank you enough.’

  I smile because I’m not sure what to say. I’m no hero for sitting with a man who was shot because he was helping us.

  Jacki dabs at her face. ‘I’m so sorry, William,’ she says.

  ‘We can talk about it later, Mum,’ Zel says.

  Damien steps forward to shake his son’s hand and pulls him in, patting him on the shoulder. ‘We owe you an apology, son,’ he says. Zel opens his mouth to say something but his voice falters. ‘We can talk later,’ says Damien.

  ‘I might go and see what I can find out,’ Felix says as he disappears through the door.

  ‘Have they given you any news?’ Damien asks.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ Zel says.

  Jacki turns to me and shakes my hand. ‘Tamara, thank you for believing William. Thank you … for everything you did.’

  Damien waits his turn to greet me and then takes a seat. He looks up at the TV and sighs. Any minute now the footage of Knox being escorted to the car will be replayed.

  ‘I might go to get more coffee,’ I say to Zel. He catches my eye and nods, knowing I want to give him a moment alone with his parents.

  I head to the cafe on the third floor and ring Relle. Her phone goes straight to voicemail, so I assume she is still in transit. I leave a message telling her I am at the hospital and that I look forward to seeing her when she arrives.

  I give the Chisels a good thirty minutes of privacy before returning to the waiting room. When I walk in I suspect they’ve had at least part of that conversation Zel didn’t want to have. They are all sitting in a row, silent, staring at the TV. Zel’s jaw is clamped shut and the muscle on the side of his face is popping out.

  I’m about to make up an excuse to hightail it out of there when Felix comes through the door behind me.

  ‘He’s through surgery,’ he says in a rush, ‘and it was a success.’

  My hands fly up to my face as everyone talks over each other.

  ‘They said once he’s out of recovery I can see him,’ Felix says.

  ‘Will we be able to see him?’ Zel asks.

  ‘Not today,’ Felix says, ‘but I’ll tell him you’ve been here the entire time. He considers you all family.’

  Felix sits down and we chat about all kinds of normal things for a while. The Chisels are so relieved that Carrington made it through surgery they are happy to let go of troubling issues for now. We stay with Felix until a nurse comes in and says he is allowed to see his brother for five minutes. We wait. The conversation dies off without Felix in the room and I’m not sure where to look. I pull out my phone and reply to a few messages from friends. News sure travels fast.

  Felix returns, full of details about Carrington. He has stabilised and the doctors say he’s going to be okay.

  We all rise to go.

  ‘We’ve arranged accommodation for everyone,’ Damien says.

  ‘Thank you, but I’ve arranged to stay with friends,’ Felix says. ‘I might go upstairs and make a few phone calls before I leave the hospital.’

  Felix then turns to me and Zel. ‘What you did took a lot of courage. You risked your lives flying that helicopter, but you did it anyway. You saved my brother’s life.’ Felix takes our hands. ‘Thank you.’ He looks at me. ‘From what I hear you could have walked away from all of this, but you chose to stay and help fight for William’s freedom. I hope this allows you to breathe easy.’

  I squeeze Felix’s hand, lost for words. We say our goodbyes and he leaves.

  ‘We’ve parked downstairs,’ Damien says. ‘It’s a circus out front.’

  Zel sighs and looks to the ceiling. Damien catches Zel’s reaction, stammers, and then stops.

  ‘We’re going to set the record straight, William,’ he says gently. ‘There’ll be no cover-ups this time, I promise. We’re running the story, even though it muddies the Chisel name. There will be a full media release. Oliver and I have already discussed it.’

  Zel’s eyes fill with tears and his father steps in to hug him. There’s a heaviness to Damien
and I realise this new development is complicated for the Chisels. While one son is cleared from murder, the other is accused.

  We head downstairs and get into Damien’s car. I sink into the soft leather on the back seat and immediately feel my body relax. The urge to sleep overwhelms me and I close my eyes. They fly open again when a hand smacks against my window. As we emerge from the underground car park our vehicle is swamped by reporters.

  ‘Tamara Bennett, are you in there? Tamara Bennett, why did you believe William when the rest of Australia was scared of him?’

  ‘William, how does it feel to be freed of suspicion of being a murderer?’

  ‘Do you have any compassion for your brother?’

  Having so many people shouting at us through the windows is daunting, and I realise how hard it must have been for the Chisels after the boat accident. Damien and Jacki’s faces are like steel. This is a nightmare for them, as it would have been when Zel was being hunted down.

  Finally there is a break in the traffic and we move off. I hear Jacki exhale. Damien takes her hand and they both stare out the window.

  ‘How are Selena and Oliver?’ Zel asks.

  ‘Not good,’ Damien says. ‘Shocked, devastated, sorry, and ashamed of how they treated you. We are too, William. Knox betrayed us all and we betrayed you by believing him.’ Damien’s voice starts to shake. ‘We were all so consumed by grief and guilt after losing Christian that we couldn’t see anything else. But you did, and you told us what Knox was doing. We should have listened. How many families …’ His eyes overflow and he can’t continue.

  ‘As awful as everything is, knowing what happened to Christian might finally bring us all some kind of closure,’ Jacki says. ‘At least we can start repairing some of the damage.’

  Damien looks at his son in the rear-view mirror. ‘I certainly hope so,’ he says.

  My heart goes out to both of them.

  ‘What about Portia?’ Zel asks.

  Jacki shakes her head. ‘She’s not good either. I spoke to her briefly and she said she was going to stay with her parents.’

  I look away.

  Zel was right. Everyone in this family was wrecked along with that boat. All because of one spontaneous, vile decision made by one enraged person.

  I want to feel happy because we are safe and free, but it would be insensitive to show joy now. I want to talk about Simon and Darryl, to express my satisfaction that their killer has been arrested, but I can’t in front of this family. I also want to know how Zel feels, now that all of this is over. How he feels about me …

  As if he knows my thoughts, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I turn to him and smile. His eyes light up when they meet mine.

  Something about Zel is different and I like it. His desperation is gone and has been replaced with an inner calm. He can rebuild and live his life now. We all can. Truth gave that back to us, just like concealing the truth took it away from others.

  The world, and how I see it, is forever changed and I know I am yet to absorb the full impact of what’s happened. But I, too, am going to rebuild and live my life, and I’m determined to make it count.

  I think I understand what truth really means now. I think I understand its power. Truth is far more potent than lies. It’s as forceful, constant and as indomitable as gravity, and I know I want to spend my life reporting it. Truthful news may not always be good news, but it is vital. A journalist’s duty is to record history as it happens, the bad with the good.

  I think about what Felix said before he left the hospital. Even though truth without fear is the motto of the Coastal Daily, maybe it has less to do with reporting it, and more about living it. Maybe this is what allows us all to breathe.

  Getting a book from idea to shelf is a long and involved process and, for me, it doesn’t happen without a team of dazzling brilliance working behind the scenes.

  Special thanks goes to my family, David, Zoe, Tia and Eve, for being there every day. My writing is almost as much a part of their lives as it is mine. My gratitude extends to my parents, Joan and Lionel Torney, and my in-laws, Kerry and Lynton Ferris, who help in so many ways – support, encouragement, childcare, reading early drafts … I don’t have the space here to list everything you do.

  To Tara Wynne, agent extraordinaire, thank you for the work you do behind the scenes, trying to make my dreams a reality, and for believing in me, always.

  To my publisher, Zoe Walton, and editor, Victoria Stone – THANK YOU! For a great part of this process I wasn’t functioning at my best due to illness and you carried me along with expertise, professionalism and without complaint. You have done a tremendous job with this book. Thanks also goes to the entire Penguin Random House Children’s Sales and Marketing Team, with special mention to Dorothy Tonkin, Zoe Bechara, Suzannah Katris, Eliza Thompson, Tamika Wood, Clare Marshall and Angela Duke – thank you for marketing, publicising and selling my books. It’s an honour and a privilege to work with everyone in this team.

  The cover of Wreck was done by Christabella Designs, as were the covers for my first two books, and again Christa has done an outstanding job. Thank you for making my books look so beautiful.

  Thanks to Kristine Parkinson and Darryl Ronchi and all of the staff at my local bookstore, Collins Booksellers Echuca, who go above and beyond to publicise and to sell my books. This gratitude extends to all wholesale and retail booksellers who work at stocking, displaying, recommending and selling my books. None of this would be happening without you.

  Gratitude goes to my friend and brilliant writer, Natalie Durrant, for talking plot lines and themes all the way from Falls Creek to Echuca and for your excellent proofreading skills. Special thanks also goes to Lucy Keath, Amy Barnes and Nina Paine, who did amazing proofreads of the final draft.

  The staff at the Riverine Herald have done so much for me – Andrew Mole, Ivy Wise, Tyla Harrington and Lana Murphy (now with Channel 9 Shepparton). Not only do they report on my events, review my books, and publicise me and my work to the local communities, but for this book, they also read early (dreadful) drafts, checked facts and authenticity, helped me draft certain scenes and dialogue and allowed the fictitious paper in Wreck, the Coastal Daily, to use their motto, ‘Truth without fear’. You played a huge part of my research for this book. Thank you for your generosity, help and support.

  While I’m acknowledging journalists, I must also thank Steve Kendall, chief of staff of the Bendigo Weekly, who also read an early (rough) draft to check facts and authenticity. The Bendigo Weekly have been a huge support to me by reviewing and publicising my books. I am extremely fortunate to have such clever and talented people helping me to succeed.

  Writing fiction = very interesting research. Just when I needed to seek information about sinking boats and helicopter rescue procedures who should I meet at the Bendigo Writers’ Festival? Ex Royal Navy rescue helicopter pilot and author of Rescue Pilot, Gerry Grayson. Gerry was very generous with his time and information about what happens when a boat goes down, types of lifeboats and life rafts, where they are stored and how they are released during an emergency evacuation. Also assisting with research was Drew Innes, Commercial Helicopter and Aeroplane pilot. Drew answered many tedious questions about flying, simulators, headsets, and making and answering phone calls during a flight. Please note that Jerry and Drew did not read any part of this book before it went to print so any inaccuracies are mine.

  My writing process is both a solo and group effort. Some of my wonderful friends read early drafts and provided invaluable feedback. Huge gratitude goes to Richard Duerden for reading Wreck as I wrote it, and then many times after that. Your support and generosity is endless. Thanks also goes to Rachael Broadhead, Roger Shaw, Carol Pirika-Shaw, Amelia Locantro and Melissa Pouliot who read for me at various stages and made fantastic suggestions. You all contributed to making this book better and your efforts are much appreciated.

  My gratitude extends to six brilliant women, Rebecca James, Nicole Hayes, Racha
el Craw, Trinity Doyle, Ellie Marney and Gabrielle Tozer. Thank you for sharing, enduring and understanding the highs and lows, twists and turns, and the angst, hope and excitement of this wonderful business.

  I wish to thank the members of my local community for their generosity, ongoing support and encouragement. Special mention goes to Jenny Mustey and all of the staff at the Campaspe Library, Kerry-Anne Jones and Spencer McGill from Southwest Arts, and to my fellow members of Deniliquin Writers. Thank you so much for everything you have done for me.

  And to my readers, reviewers, bloggers, vloggers, followers and friends on social media channels who encourage, cheer, like, share, review, blog and vlog every day, THANK YOU! Your support means the world to me.

  Fleur Ferris spent the first seventeen years of her life growing up on a farm in Patchewollock, northwest Victoria. She then moved twenty times in twenty years. During this time, Fleur sometimes saw the darker side to life while working for a number of years as a police officer and a paramedic. She now lives a more settled lifestyle on a rice farm in southern New South Wales, with her husband and three young children. Fleur’s colourful and diverse background has given her a unique insight into today’s society and an endless pool of experiences from which to draw. When she isn’t weaving this through young adult fiction, reading or spending time with her family, you will find her with friends, talking about art, books and travel. Wreck is Fleur’s third novel for young adults.

  Risk

  Black

  Wreck

  Taylor and Sierra have been best friends for their whole lives. But Taylor’s fed up. Why does Sierra always get what – and who – she wants? From kissing Taylor’s crush to stealing the guy they both met online for herself, Sierra doesn’t seem to notice when she hurts her friends.

  So when Sierra says Jacob Jones is the one and asks her friends to cover for her while she goes to meet him for the first time, Taylor rolls her eyes.

  But Sierra doesn’t come back when she said she would.

  One day. Two days. Three …