At the Lake

by Jill Harris

  ‘You kids stay where you are — this won’t take long,’ he ordered Rosie and Tommy. He nodded at Barney.

  ‘Morning, Squint,’ said Barney pleasantly. ‘A word.’ He moved further up the jetty. Squint pursed his lips.

  ‘What about?’ he asked pugnaciously, and stayed where he was.

  Barney moved back.

  ‘You on my property the night before last?’ he asked.

  ‘Nah. Stayed put that night.’

  Barney looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Then make sure it stays that way. Do your shooting somewhere else, and keep your dog away from my place. Kids don’t need to be near guns and guard dogs.’

  Squint turned on his heel and walked up the jetty.

  Barney stepped down onto the deck. Jem had opened the forward hatch and was standing on tiptoe looking at Squint.

  ‘Up you come,’ said Barney, hauling him up. ‘Say hello to Rosie and Tommy, then you can cast off after I start the motor.’ He dropped down through the hatch. Simon was crouching in the bow.

  ‘You want to say hello to the others, too?’

  ‘Not really,’ Simon replied. Imagine if Squint came back while he was still on the jetty? Just hearing his voice had been enough to give Simon the shakes.

  ‘Can you take us out so I can sort the fishing gear?’ asked Barney. ‘You’ll need to reverse a bit before you can go forward. Keep an eye on the steps.’

  Simon gulped and nodded. With only one arm for balance, he climbed onto the high seat clumsily. Once seated, he found he could now reach the starter button on the dashboard, and his feet no longer dangled but rested on the rung.

  He held the boat in neutral until Jem had cast off, then, cautiously using the arm in the sling to hold the wheel steady and his good arm to do all the work, he manoeuvred the boat away from the jetty and into open water.

  ‘Well done,’ said Barney as he hauled the big tackle box out of the bow cubby and set it down outside the cabin. ‘Just head for where we were earlier this morning.’

  By the time they reached their fishing spot, Barney had baited two rods.

  The breeze had veered north and was now coming from behind, agitating the water along the lake edge.

  ‘This’ll do us,’ said Barney. ‘Jem, hop up there and drop the pick — gently. No need to tell the trout we’re here.’

  Anchor down, the Cynthia bobbed on the wavelets, bow to the wind. Barney had cast a rod from the stern and handed it to Jem. ‘There’s not much water movement — the worm should stay put there on the bottom. If you get a strike, try not to let the trout dive too far into the weed or you’ll lose it — and the hook.’

  He turned to Simon. ‘I’ll cast the other line upwind and let it drift past the boat. I’ll take it today, your turn next time when you’re shook of that sling.’

  They sat in silence, watching the sun stippling the ridged bottom of the lake, and keeping a lookout for movement in the weed. Barney’s line slowly drifted past, float bobbing. He reeled in some of the slack, but it soon lengthened again as it passed along the other side of the boat. The sun came and went through the cloud gaps: one moment the lake was dark green; the next, diamonds twinkled brilliantly just beneath the surface.

  Simon sat with the tips of his fingers trailing in the water, eyes closed. Surely if he kept away from the yard and kept his mouth shut Squint would leave him alone? Wouldn’t Squint see that if he pushed him too hard, Simon was more likely to talk to Barney? The boat rocked gently and the water gurgled and slapped lightly against the hull.

  ‘… in the bow. Simon?’

  Simon jerked awake. Barney and Jem were grinning at him.

  ‘Food, Si. Thought that might wake you up!’

  ‘How long was I asleep?’

  ‘Ages,’ said Jem.

  But Simon looked at the shadows on the boat and saw they had hardly moved. ‘Very funny,’ he said.

  ‘There’s some lunch in the carton in the bow,’ repeated Barney. ‘Are you up to serving it out?’

  Simon fetched the carton and unpacked it clumsily on the seat.

  ‘Any action?’ he asked.

  ‘Not even a nibble,’ said Barney. ‘Wrong time of the day, though. Plus it’s too warm and the water’s very shallow. They’re probably down there in the weed where it’s cooler.’

  Jem wound his line in. ‘Not touched,’ he observed, laying the rod along the floor. Barney reeled his line in, too, and laid it alongside.

  They ate their thick chicken and tomato sandwiches. There were cartons of fruit juice for Simon and Jem, and a thermos of tea for Barney. The breeze had died away and the water was a mirror reflecting the overhanging ferns. Jem got hotter and hotter. He glanced over the side.

  ‘Can I hop in and cool off?’

  Barney lifted an oar over the side and took the depth. ‘Yeah, but keep on the land side and don’t swim around. You’ve only just finished lunch.’

  Jem was out of his clothes in a flash. Simon looked at his skinny body. ‘Starvation on stilts,’ he sneered. ‘What a Darfur freak.’

  ‘What’s a—’ Jem began and stopped. Simon would sling off at him, just like that prison thing. So he ducked his head instead and wrapped his arms around his chest. A minute later he was in the water up to his shoulders.

  ‘What about you?’ Barney asked Simon. ‘We can take the sling off if you keep your arm by your side.’

  Simon slid his arm out of the sling. His arm wasn’t hurting nearly as much as it had two days ago. He pulled his shorts and T-shirt off, but not his underpants. He felt self-conscious in front of Barney, and he knew Jem would stare. He sat on the narrow side deck and slid in.

  Barney poured himself another mug of tea. He scanned the lake to identify where the drone of an outboard motor was coming from. Aluminium, he thought, as the sun flashed off the distant boat, and moving! The sound rapidly grew louder. Lewis again. Barney tightened his lips. Damn fool — too fast.

  ‘There’ll be some wash from that boat soon,’ he told the boys. ‘You might want to get back in, especially you, Simon. Can I give you a hand?’

  But it was Jem who grasped Barney’s hand and scrambled aboard.

  The boat bore down on them, motor whining with the speed. It would pass within ten metres.

  ‘Anchor rope, Si!’ shouted Barney. ‘Hang on to the anchor rope!’ and then the wave hit them broadside. The boat rocked violently as it was shunted sideways. Down clattered the mug of tea, crash went the thermos. Jem was flung onto his knees. Barney gripped the seat in the cabin. He took one stride to the side of the boat and looked over. Where was Simon?

  ‘Stay in the boat,’ he ordered Jem as he climbed over the side. He saw Simon immediately. He was under the bow and pushing himself out and up. He surfaced and gulped in air.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he gasped.

  Barney grasped his arm. ‘Thank God!’

  Simon hauled himself into the boat. His arm gave him a twinge of pain.

  They pulled towels and jerseys from the lockers under the seats. Both boys sat shivering inside the cabin. Barney hunted in the carton of groceries and found the chocolate.

  ‘The man’s a menace,’ he said eventually. ‘Out of control. Too fast and too close — probably a payback for what I said to him on the jetty. Something’ll have to be done. Best to stay right out of his way in the meantime.’

  That was meant for me, thought Simon. I should tell Barney now, but I can’t — he’ll follow it up with Squint Lewis and then Squint’ll get me.

  Nobody spoke on the way home. They unloaded the boat inside the boatshed. Barney left the rods where they lay. Simon had never seen him do that before — they were always cleaned and stowed away under the bow before they left the boat.

  Inside the house, Barney re-bandaged Simon’s knee and helped him back into the sling. He made cocoa. The boys went to their bedrooms and curled up with books. Barney then disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door. They could hear him on the phone.

  That
evening, after dinner, Barney went to clean the boat. As soon as he had gone out, Jem came into Simon’s room.

  ‘What do you want?’ growled Simon. ‘And knock next time.’

  ‘I’m going to the house-yard to make friends with the dog,’ said Jem.

  ‘The great dog-whisperer does it again. Don’t be stupid — the dog’s not a friendly mutt, he’s an attack machine.’

  ‘He won’t attack me, dogs never do.’

  ‘You can’t go up there,’ said Simon shortly. ‘Barney told us not to. I’ll tell him what you’re planning.’

  Jem sighed. Simon was stupid sometimes. He couldn’t see around corners.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ he said. ‘We’re safer if I make friends with the dog. Then we’ve got only one enemy, not two.’

  ‘Especially when you’re not around.’ Simon was sarcastic. ‘And I’ll just say, “Down boy, don’t bite me — I’m Jeremy’s brother.”’

  ‘Actually, that’s right. If you’re with me when I make friends, that’s just what the dog will know.’

  Simon’s face went hot. ‘I’m not going near the yard,’ he said vehemently. ‘Barney said not to. You’ve seen what Squint’s like — he’s not just mean, he’s dangerous.’

  ‘OK,’ replied Jem, and went back to his room.

  Now what do I do? thought Simon. Jem was doing what he did best: mucking things up for him. Should he tell Barney — or just let Jem walk into danger? Worse, should he go with his brother? Simon’s chest went tight at the thought.

  Later, in bed, he wondered what his father would tell him to do. He tried to call up his dad’s face, but it was fading as the months went by. What should I do, Dad? he whispered. He didn’t have to ask himself what his mother would say: Let your grandfather handle it, Simon; this is too hard for a kid of fourteen. You can’t let Jem go up there alone.

  Suddenly he thought: Is the door locked? He slipped out of bed and moved silently into the kitchen. The door was unlocked, so he turned the key. It was stiff, and grated.

  ‘That you, Si?’ Barney appeared.

  ‘I thought I’d lock the door.’

  ‘Hasn’t been locked for thirty years,’ said Barney. He put his arm around Simon’s shoulders. ‘You’re not telling me everything,’ he said. ‘I can’t make you — but you know you can rely on me, don’t you?’

  But what if you’re not around when Squint comes for me?

  They went back to bed. Simon stared at the patterns on the drawn curtains until his eyes closed.

  But Jem was still awake. He had heard Barney and Simon talking in the kitchen. What did Barney mean by ‘You’re not telling me everything’? Why had Simon been so quiet for the past two days? He had been leaving Jem alone — but that could have been Barney’s talking-to on the first night. Was it something to do with falling off the bike? Why had he looked so scared about exploring the yard — surely he was curious about it, too?

  And what would he, Jem, do about the dog? He knew the answer already: he wouldn’t be able to keep away — he just had to try himself out on a proper challenge. The nearest he’d come to a fierce dog was the Staffie-cross near the school who barked and snapped at everyone who walked past the gate, and that dog was only bored rather than bad-tempered. Jem loved that moment when a dog’s growling died and the fur flattened out on its back. After that it was fine to put out a hand and scratch it under the chin. ‘A German shepherd — big, dark brute’ was how his grandfather had described Squint’s dog.

  Yep, first opportunity he’d slip away in the dinghy, row around the point to the cove, and walk to the yard through the bush. He fell asleep imagining himself burying his hands in the dog’s thick, black pelt. He dreamt he was riding on its back … across the paddocks … over the fences …

  9

  ‘That’s private stuff!’

  Simon thought it would be OK out on the point. Squint Lewis would be at the yard with his dog during the day, surely.

  He reckoned he could handle the swing — he wasn’t wearing the sling any more — even if he couldn’t do the drop into the lake. He’d give it a go anyway — get away from Jem, slip out of the sun porch door quietly and avoid him. But Barney saw him sloping off towards the back fence.

  ‘You off somewhere?’

  ‘Yeah, thought I’d go to the swing.’

  Jem stuck his head out of the bedroom window. ‘Can I—’

  ‘No!’ snapped Simon. ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Think your arm’ll be OK?’ asked Barney. ‘You’ve only just removed the sling. Don’t push your luck.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Jem listened, mouth drooping. He loved that swing — leaping out into space and hoping you’d grab the rope and get yourself seated on the knot before you went straight on into the lake. Then the great arc out over the water and the question ‘Will I let go now or swing back and do it next time?’

  ‘You and I can start looking at the fly tackle,’ Barney told Jem. ‘Some bits and pieces to join up there — good chance to practise your knots.’

  Simon hesitated for a split second. That was his job. He and Barney always did that. Jem couldn’t do the knots yet.

  But he caught Barney’s eye and kept going.

  It wasn’t much of a day — mostly clouds, only a bit of sun — but it was good to be out on his own. Squint and his dog receded from his mind, and he began to feel as though he was on holiday. He also quite liked not feeling he had to text everyone all the time just to stay in the loop. What were you supposed to say all day: Hw R U m8? I mesd up in skool 2day. LOL. WTH. Fn u 2moro. BCNU. Wow, world-shaking!

  He was moving slowly through the grass, enjoying the feathery tickling on his legs, when he heard something … a quiet murmur, someone crying, then another murmur.

  He dropped to his knees and peered through the grass at the swing. He saw a yellow arm and a blue denim knee sticking out to one side of the puriri tree. He inched forward until he could see more.

  Rosie was leaning against the trunk and Tommy was sitting between her knees. She had her arms wrapped around him, rocking him gently.

  Every so often Tommy gave a small, shuddering sob and Rosie soothed him.

  ‘They won’t hurt so much soon. Promise. I’ll put some more spit on them. Look, already they’re not so red.’

  ‘Why does he do it? I always do what he says.’

  Rosie didn’t answer. She rocked him some more. Tommy leant his head back against her chest.

  ‘Why does he?’

  ‘His head’s funny,’ Rosie said eventually.

  ‘Mum tries to stop him and then he hits her, too.’

  Rosie just kept on rocking and humming a tune. What’s the ma-a-atter with ma-a-ay? After a while, Tommy’s sobs stopped.

  ‘Couldn’t we run away?’

  ‘We’d need lots of money, Tommy, and we haven’t got any. Anyway, people would find us and send us back. Mum’d be awfully worried, too.’

  ‘I’ll hit him back when I’m big enough! Just you see!’

  Rosie sighed and stood up. ‘We won’t be living with him by then. We’ll be grown up and gone. Mum, too. In our own house where it’s safe.’

  She looked up the slope. ‘I know you’re there. I heard you coming.’

  Simon stood, slowly. He felt as though he’d been caught out doing something wrong. ‘I wasn’t quite sure what to do,’ he said awkwardly.

  He noticed the blue-red welts on Tommy’s legs immediately.

  ‘That’s private stuff!’ snapped Rosie fiercely when she saw Simon staring at the marks. ‘And you shut up about what you heard!’

  Simon had never seen stripes like that before. He felt sick and fascinated at the same time. He couldn’t stop glancing at them, which made him ashamed of himself. What could he do to help Tommy? ‘You wanna swing?’ he asked.

  Tommy sniffed. ‘I can’t reach it.’

  Simon lifted down the stick from its place in the fork of the trunk and hooked the rope in. ‘Can you climb up onto the knot?’r />
  But it was Rosie who lifted him on. ‘Hold on tight, Tommy,’ she said, and pushed him out over the drop. Out he swung, the long, thick rope quivering with tension as it carried him out over the lake and back. On his face was a small, uncertain smile. Rosie pushed him again. The smile turned into a wide grin.

  ‘Just what he needed,’ said Rosie. ‘Who made the swing?’

  ‘My dad.’

  ‘It’s pretty good.’

  Simon didn’t want to acknowledge anything good about his father.

  ‘So where’s your brother?’ asked Rosie.

  Simon said nothing.

  ‘I bet you wouldn’t let him come.’ She looked at him closely: ‘Why are you so mean to him? He’s OK.’

  Simon wasn’t going to talk to Rosie about Jem. He caught Tommy on a return swing and held the rope steady. ‘OK?’

  Tommy slid down. ‘Wicked,’ he breathed.

  ‘When you’re older, you can let go over the lake — just as long as the water covers that shelf.’ He pointed it out. ‘It makes a huge splash. We climb out up the bank there.’

  He was conscious of Rosie’s appraising stare.

  ‘You’re good with kids. You should try it with your own brother.’

  Simon’s lips turned down and his eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t know Jem,’ he said. He returned the forked stick to the tree. ‘Tommy shouldn’t use the swing on his own,’ he said.

  They stood awkwardly, the easiness of two days ago gone.

  Rosie broke the silence. ‘How come you call your grandfather Barney?’

  ‘We just do — always have. Mum calls him Barney, too, and he’s her father.’

  ‘What about your grandma?’

  ‘We called her Gran. She died. What do you call your grandparents?’

  ‘We haven’t got a grandma,’ said Tommy. ‘Wish we did and we could go and live with her. We could just run—’

  ‘Shhh, Tommy.’ Rosie interrupted him quietly.

  ‘How long are you going to live at the lake?’ asked Simon.

  ‘Prob’ly not that long. We never stay anywhere for long,’ Rosie replied. ‘Have you always lived in Auckland?’