At the Lake

by Jill Harris

  And what if Squint saw him on his own and decided to take the opportunity to deliver another warning?

  ‘Easy, boy, easy,’ he heard his dad’s voice. ‘You only have to take the next step.’

  Simon took a deep breath. He fossicked in his suitcase and pulled out his grey hoodie. He would disguise himself. In his grandfather’s room he found a pair of glasses. Next he helped himself to some liquorice all-sorts from the kitchen — Jem reckoned dogs loved them. Finally he scribbled a note to Barney:

  1.20 Gone back to track off main road by big rimu and road sign. Simon & Jem.

  He put on the hoodie and pulled the strings tight. Then he slipped on the glasses — the world swam before him and the floor tilted away. He used Barney’s helmet — it was completely different from his own. He felt better once he was away from the house, pedalling hard up the hill to town, peering over the top of the glasses.

  Jem’s bike and helmet were in the same place as yesterday. That meant Jem was still ahead of him — one less complication.

  Simon made fast time going along the track. The creek was still in full flow. He looked at the cracked branch carefully for the best way to cross. Although it was wet and slippery and he could barely reach some of the hand- and foot-holds, he made it safely to the other side. However had Jem managed? That was when he noticed the bent twigs along the side of the track. Smart, he thought reluctantly; not as damaging as the cuts he had made with his knife.

  The track was just discernible, and whenever it disappeared into the undergrowth and fallen branches, Jem’s twigs showed the way. He reached the junction with the other track, saw where Jem had arranged a fern leaf with its silver underside uppermost, and turned right. The track went uphill until it reached a high wire fence — the yard. Simon’s heart jumped.

  He stayed in the shelter of the bush watching — back down the track, along the fence and beyond the fence. Seeing nothing untoward, he moved cautiously up to the fence. There was no hiding now as he approached the gate. It was padlocked. Jem had talked about a place past the gate where you could get under the fence, so Simon kept looking. He was glad the bush pressed against the fence. He could disappear quickly if he needed to. He soon found Jem’s hole, concealed by one of the branches left lying around by the fencers.

  Crouching against the fence, he continued to scan the yard in front of him. It wasn’t that far to the front fence on the road, and he could make out some of the houses he’d seen last time. The backbone of the woolshed roof, red and rusted, rose above them. The office and the main gate were blocked from view so he couldn’t see whether the dog was there, or anyone in the office, or even a car. He could, however, hear snatches of music and conversation. Someone was playing a radio — maybe Mrs Lewis.

  But where was Jem? Should he wait here or go looking for him in the yard? This was the heart of his dilemma and his dread. Again, anger made his face hot. Jem had taken off without a thought for where this would leave Simon. Simon looked at his watch: half past two. He would wait ten minutes, then he would have to squeeze under the fence and go looking.

  The houses slumbered in the sun. Simon could detect no movement except the long grass stirring in the occasional breeze. The same breeze carried the sound of the radio to him in snatches.

  A tiny change to the edge of a house caught his eye. He tensed. There was something there. A black cat strolled into the open with three mewing kittens in tow. Simon began to ask himself what there could possibly be to fear in this sleepy, sun-filled scene. Why didn’t he just wriggle through the fence and stroll around like the cat enjoying the warmth?

  As if in answer to his question, Jem walked out from behind a house with the dog. Simon stood up.

  The dog pricked up his ears and gave a low, rumbling growl. Jem saw Simon and placed his hand reassuringly on the dog’s neck as he walked towards the fence.

  ‘Isn’t he a beauty?’ he said to Simon. ‘Come on through and get to know him.’

  ‘His name’s Ace,’ said Simon. ‘Rose told me.’

  The dog wagged his tail. Simon fished out one of the liquorice all-sorts and fed it to Ace through the mesh.

  ‘There’s nobody around,’ said Jem. ‘I thought someone was in the office when I heard the radio, but it’s playing in one of the houses. It’s funny, because you can’t get up into the house. There are no steps. That must be where the cat lives. The kittens were making a lot of noise in there, though I don’t know how they get in and out. I’ve been exploring for ages — with my friend. Ace.’ He repeated the name and the dog’s tail swished faster from side to side.

  ‘Barney’ll be home soon,’ said Simon tightly. ‘We should get back. He told us not to come here. I’m not going to get under the fence, and you have to come back with me now!’ His voice had risen, full of his anger with Jem. ‘You’ve got to know the dog, you’ve seen the yard, and that’s enough!’

  Jem leant along the dog’s broad back. ‘Gotta go, fella,’ he said. ‘Go on, off you go! Back to your kennel!’ Ace whined. Jem pushed his rump. ‘Go back!’ he commanded, and Ace trotted away with his tail tucked down.

  As Jem crawled back under the fence, Simon grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him through. He pulled him to his feet, shook him angrily, and flung him hard against the fence.

  ‘You had no right to just take off!’ Simon shouted. ‘What do you think I was supposed to do? If anything happens to you, it’s my fault! If Squint sees me, he’ll really punish me!’

  Jem picked himself up and put some distance between them. He knew to hold his tongue. But all his pleasure with the dog and exploring the yard in the sun and the adventure of making his way along the track was evaporating.

  ‘You do it on purpose — you set me up! Or you’re too dumb to see where things might lead! You’re a stupid little retard!’

  They started off down the track.

  ‘But it was perfectly OK,’ said Jem after a minute or two. ‘There was nobody there.’

  ‘It wasn’t just the yard! What about getting over the creek? And finding your way along the rest of the track? And rowing beyond the inlet the other day, in the rain, all the way to the Lewises’ cove? You saw how mad Barney was with us yesterday. He would never have agreed to you doing all that on your own. He expects me to keep an eye on you — I’m stuck with you these holidays and it’s a total pain!’

  They tramped on until they reached the creek.

  ‘How did you cross it?’ Simon demanded to know.

  ‘It was all right.’

  Simon homed in on the hesitation. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘OK, then: show me how you did it.’

  Jem eyed the branch. He knew how not to do it — he had found that out earlier when his feet had slipped and he had dangled over the creek for a few heart-stopping moments. He gripped the upper branch, stepped onto the lower fork and shuffled his feet sideways. He simply couldn’t stretch far enough with his arms or his legs to make his way easily. But he did manage to get across, and stood watching as Simon followed. The rest of the track was now becoming familiar to them, and they soon reached their bikes.

  ‘It was OK,’ Jem said again. ‘There’s nothing going on in the yard, and Ace isn’t a “killer dog”.’

  ‘Are you saying I made it up?’ Simon burst out furiously. He wanted to punch his brother!

  Jem put his bike between them. ‘I just don’t think we need to be so scared. I didn’t see anyone, I climbed up into several houses and it was perfectly safe, and you saw how friendly Ace was.’

  Simon blinked away tears of frustration. He knew he wasn’t wrong about Squint Lewis, and Rose had confirmed it this morning. Keeping Jem out of trouble would be even more impossible now that Jem didn’t believe there was any risk.

  He swung his leg over the bike and stepped out onto the road. Jem followed and they freewheeled down the hill. As they approached the road to the store on the left, a red car pulled out in front of them — the Lewises’ car. Jem
swerved left onto the verge and jumped off quickly to avoid toppling into a deep ditch, but Simon stayed on the road. The car was moving slowly, so Simon braked and dropped back; but as he began to pass the car on the inside, it moved in, forcing him off the road as well. He got off and joined Jem on the narrow strip of gravel and weeds. The car had stopped just ahead of them.

  ‘Keep going,’ said Simon tersely, and pushed his bike forward. But as soon as he made a move to pass the car, it edged in and forced him further over. Again, it stopped just ahead. Simon’s knees were trembling. Jem caught up with him.

  ‘He’s not going to let us past,’ muttered Simon. ‘We’ll have to go back.’ They turned their bikes and began to push them towards the turn-off to the store, but the red car backed up slowly, tracking them.

  ‘He’ll force us into the ditch,’ said Jem. ‘What’ll we do?’

  The ditch, thought Simon. Of course. ‘The ditch is the best place to be,’ said Simon. ‘I know it’s quite deep, but can you drop your bike in and slide in, too? Quick as you can.’

  They both moved at the same time. As soon as the car realized what they were doing, it backed up faster towards them — but it was too late. As the boys looked up, they saw Squint Lewis leaning across and looking down through the passenger window. Then he took off in a puff of exhaust fumes, the car’s wheels skidding in the gravel.

  Simon wanted to turn on Jem. ‘So you don’t think there’s anything to be scared of?’ he wanted to yell. But there was no need to say anything — Jem’s eyes were wide. Simon picked his bike up from the muddy ooze and tried to clean the handles. They would have to walk down the ditch until they found a place to climb out. Jem followed him. Neither of them uttered a word.

  16

  The cold gripped him like a huge hand

  Barney had his feet up reading in the sun when they got home. He told them to soak their muddy sneakers and run the hose over their bikes. ‘Can’t think why you kids don’t wait for these tracks to dry out,’ he said. ‘You’ve got the rest of the holidays to go biking. How about a swim off the rock? something clean for a change.’

  They got into their swimming togs and walked through the Masons’ to the bottom of the garden. The lawn fell away steeply, and a crumbly track led to a rocky ledge which jutted out into the lake. There was no sign of Rosie and Tommy. They picked their way down the track to the ledge.

  ‘Give yourselves a chance to get used to the cold before you swim further out,’ said Barney.

  Simon hooked his towel around a stub of bracken. There was no gradual way of getting in — you just had to jump. His stomach clenched before he launched himself off the rock. The cold gripped him like a huge hand. He kicked vigorously and splashed his arms, then swam back to the ledge and hauled himself out.

  ‘Freezing!’ His teeth were chattering. Then he was off again, and this time he swam further out.

  Jem didn’t falter. He thrust himself off the edge and gave himself over to the exhilarating coldness. He flailed around, wondering how his white legs looked to the trout below.

  Barney stood and watched the boys working their limbs like frogs to keep warm. Even though he had his togs on, he had no intention of going in himself: why get wet and cold when you didn’t have to?

  Simon swam some thirty metres from the ledge and floated on his back. He felt like a leaf suspended on the skin of the water, between the air going up forever into blueness and the green, deep darkness beneath. Was he game to dive down to the weeds and pick a piece to prove he had done it? ‘Be careful of the weed,’ Barney and everyone kept saying, but he couldn’t see why. It was loose and slippery and the trout swam through it, so why couldn’t he? He turned over and peered down, but the sunlight ran out before he saw any of the green spirals. Maybe he could do it closer in, where the weed gave way to the new moon of the Masons’ beach?

  This was freedom. He had only himself to think about. The anger he had felt towards Jem all day still stiffened his jaw, but the cold freshness of the lake worked on him, and gradually the frustration and anxiety of the morning fell away.

  Then he saw Jem swimming towards him in a flurry of splashing. He still hadn’t got the hang of breathing — his head stuck up too high and he looked stupid. No way is Jem going to join me, thought Simon. He kicked noisily and put more distance between them. Jem kept coming. Simon swam further out again. He felt a mean satisfaction — he hadn’t forgiven Jem for his stupidity about the yard. He was sick of Jem, sick of Squint Lewis, and sick of his own fear. He didn’t want Jem out here with him; he wanted this cold, straightforward pureness to himself. He swam further out again.

  Jem stopped and trod water. He tried to wave, but the action pushed him under. What an idiot, thought Simon. What did you think’d happen? He trod water and watched Jem’s head surface. Jem was coughing and flailing his arms about. Simon waited for him to strike out again, but he disappeared under the water a second time.

  Simon hesitated for a split second. Was Jem in trouble? He gave a powerful kick to get himself into swim mode, but before he had made a first stroke towards Jem there was a loud splash. Barney had dived in and was breast-stroking powerfully towards them. He reached Jem, pulled him up and onto his back, and supported him.

  ‘To the rock!’ he shouted to Simon as he steered Jem towards the rock.

  Simon became aware of how chilled he was. His teeth were chattering. He headed back. How much had Barney seen? Jem’d been OK until the last minute. Of course he wouldn’t have let him drown. Barney needn’t have dived in like that. Simon felt a mix of guilt and truculence.

  Jem had already climbed up the track and was making for home. Barney waited at the top of the track for Simon. He gripped his arm painfully and shook him.

  ‘You—!’ He was so angry he couldn’t continue. He marched Simon in front of him along the Masons’ path, past the porch where Rosie and Tommy were watching.

  ‘He would have drowned!’ Barney finally spat at Simon. ‘You set it up. You drew him on. That’s criminal behaviour! What gets into you?’

  They reached the house. Barney dropped Simon’s arm and pushed him roughly through the door, disappearing into Jem’s room. Simon went to the sun porch and closed the door. He was shaking. What did get into him? He didn’t know, but the urge to be mean to Jem was always lying in wait. He would have reached Jem in a few strokes, and hauled him up. Barney had jumped in too quickly; he had just assumed Simon would do nothing — that made his face hot with anger. How could Barney think he wouldn’t go to Jem’s help?

  Simon got dressed and stood miserably staring at the lake. It was like the last holidays all over again. ‘If this ever happens again,’ Barney had said then, ‘you’ll be on the bus back to your mother.’ But this year his mother was up north on holiday.

  He could hear Barney and Jem in the kitchen. Mother’s boy on a fuss, he thought bitterly. Well, he’d been a father’s boy, and look where that had got him: his father hadn’t even cared enough to stick around.

  A long time later Barney put his head around the door. ‘Dinner’s on the table,’ he said curtly.

  They ate in silence. Jem was red-eyed. He avoided looking at Simon.

  ‘Clean up the kitchen,’ Barney ordered Simon, and wandered down to the jetty with Jem.

  After Jem had gone to bed, Barney came into the sun porch and sat down. His face was stern. This wasn’t his grandfather who loved him, thought Simon miserably.

  ‘Why, Simon?’ asked Barney.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Simon responded dully.

  ‘Jem doesn’t provoke you — I’ve watched for that.’

  ‘He gets in my way. He hangs around. Sometimes he gives me cheek. I’m supposed to look after him, but he doesn’t take any notice of me.’

  ‘Younger brothers are like that. He wants to be companionable. He looks up to you — he wants to copy you. Sure, that can be irritating sometimes, but you seem to hate him!’ Barney looked frustrated. ‘Your reaction’s completely over the top. Last holiday
s you kept letting down his tyres — that could have been dangerous, but not deadly — but today he would have drowned because of you!’ He looked at Simon with disbelief. ‘That’s more than just teasing or even bullying. Where did that come from?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have let him drown — I’d already started to swim over,’ Simon said sullenly. ‘You jumped in too quickly.’

  ‘How can you be so foolish! He’d have pulled you under, too. There’s no way you’d have got him back to the rock.’ Barney rubbed his forehead. ‘Imagine what that would have done to your mother and father.’

  ‘My father wouldn’t care!’ Simon spat out angrily.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Barney said quietly. ‘Your father loves you boys with all his heart.’

  ‘So why isn’t he around when I need him?’

  ‘You know the score,’ Barney replied. ‘The business failed and your dad went to Australia because he could earn more money there to pay off the debts than he could at home.’

  ‘Why didn’t he take us with him?’

  ‘Because your mum’s got a good job here, so you can all live on what she earns — which means your dad’s money goes in the bank. They explained that to you at the time. Have you forgotten?’

  ‘Well, why’s Mum so angry with him all the time? Why did they fight so much before he left?’ Simon’s chest was tight as he remembered the shouting, then the silences, and the feeling that there was nothing he could do to fix it.

  ‘Your mum didn’t want him to get involved in the business in the first place. She was very upset when it started to go wrong. They lost all their savings!’ Barney sat next to Simon on the bed. ‘Look, son, there’s nothing your father wants more than for you all to be together again. He’s working day and night to make that happen. Believe me.’

  ‘He forgot my birthday,’ said Simon. ‘I bet he forgets Christmas, too.’

  Barney sighed. ‘That doesn’t excuse your behaviour this afternoon. I can’t send you back home, because your mother’s not there; I’ll have to deal with you here. You’re not to go outside this property, and you’re not to take the boat beyond the inlet, and never with Jem — I can’t trust you. And it’s the finish to any more fly-fishing, or a new rod. It’s no good telling you to apologize to Jem — would you mean it? Anyway, he doesn’t trust you any more. I doubt he’ll want to see much of you.’