Cross Tides

by Lorraine Orman

  A big ferry cruises into view, heading towards the Strait. It’s the only thing moving out there. Its white shape stands out starkly against the darkness of the sea and the hills. I can just see the dolphin outline on the blue funnel. I watch it pass while thoughts tangle themselves in my head. Daniel, Lizzie, Matthew, Mum, Dad, Rae…

  I don’t want to think any more. It’s too confusing. I grab a sweatshirt, go out the back door, lock it and tuck the key under the mat. Goldie lifts her head off the rug and looks at me hopefully, but I shake my head and say, ‘Don’t even think about it.’ She groans and puts her head down again.

  Dusk is falling as I walk down to the jetty. More clouds are boiling over the hills on the other side of the channel, thick and grey, like dirty soapsuds. I remember Steve’s warning about the weather forecast. There’s a storm coming. But there’s still no wind and the black water lies motionless round the wooden piles.

  A loud noise startles me. A kind of bang, not really close but close enough. It came from the direction of Lenny’s cottage. Steve said something earlier about Lenny going into Picton for New Year’s Eve. So why is there a noise at his cottage?

  I jog back up the main track and turn on to the path that leads under the macrocarpas to Lenny’s cottage. While I’m still in the shelter of the trees I stop and stare at the ramshackle building. The door is closed but there’s a light shining through the open windows and I can hear what sounds like a television. Lenny certainly isn’t in Picton. A sliver of fear slides down my backbone. I’m alone on the farm with him. I wonder if Steve and Lorna know he’s still here. I bet they don’t.

  I stare hard through the fading daylight at the doghouse sitting near the corner of the cottage. It’s empty and the chain is lying in coils on the ground. Ripper is probably inside with Lenny. Suddenly there’s another bang like a piece of furniture being thrown at the wall, and a kind of roar. Shit, what’s he doing?

  I want to turn and run back to the farmhouse and lock myself in. But something makes me creep through the open gate and across the grass towards the lighted window. I have to see what’s going on. I stop a metre away from the window, off to one side. I can just see inside the room. Lenny is stamping up and down, a bottle of beer clutched in one hand. Every few seconds he lifts the bottle and takes a swig. The beer overflows down his chin and wets his T-shirt. His hair is bristling and his doughy face is red and patchy. His eyes are tiny slits between the bulges of his cheeks and forehead.

  When he’s not drinking from the bottle, he’s talking. His voice goes on and on in a deep growl but I can’t make out what he’s saying. Then he shouts loudly and lifts the hand that I haven’t been able to see before. He’s holding a rifle! I freeze. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can only stare at that gun waving round in the air.

  ‘Bloody black bastards!’ Lenny roars. ‘Stealing everything — other blokes’ wives, other people’s land, you name it. I’m gunna go ’n’ teach them a frigging lesson! What d’you say to that, boy? How about some nice juicy mouthfuls of fat Maori arse? What d’you say, Ripper, old mate?’ The dog barks briefly. ‘That’s my boy. Only you ’n’ me got enough balls to give ’em what they deserve!’ He takes another swig from the bottle. ‘Gotta wait till dark. Then you ’n’ me ’n’ the old rifleman here can go ’n’ scare the shit out of ’em.’

  I back away from the window very carefully. As soon as I’m close to the trees I turn and run. He’s going over to Dawson’s Beach. With the gun. If the protesters are still there … I have to warn them. Lenny’s waiting till dark. It’s not quite dark yet. If I take a kayak I can be there in 15 minutes.

  I scramble down the track and race over to the kayaks lying high up on a patch of sand where the waves won’t reach them. What else? A paddle, dummy. And a life vest. I run over to the locker at the end of the jetty and haul out what I need. I yank the vest over my head and drag the kayak down to the water’s edge, scraping over a few sharp stones as I go. Sorry, Glynn. I push it out into the shallows, yelping as the freezing water soaks through my jeans and sneakers.

  I mustn’t tip out. Remembering all Glynn’s words of advice, I ease myself carefully into the kayak. Fate is looking after me because I wobble but stay upright.

  I begin to paddle, gently at first, but then faster and faster as I feel more confident. The yellow hull of the kayak slices silently through the water like a knife through silk. I round the point and head up the channel, keeping as close to the shore as I dare. Rocks and seaweed move like torn black curtains under the water. I don’t remember seeing those before. Am I too close to the shore? Maybe the tide’s lower? I mustn’t hit a rock. I veer slightly out into the channel. But not too far or I’ll get caught in the tide.

  A few minutes later I feel a gust of cold wind stroking along my cheek and parting my hair. The black water ahead of me heaves itself into little waves as the gust races past. The storm. I’d forgotten about the storm. I risk a look over my shoulder. A grey blanket is rolling over the hills. Faster, Bel. My arms swing the paddle furiously. My heart races like an engine in my chest. Lenny, gun, Daniel. Lenny, gun, Daniel. The words pound furiously in my head in time to the strokes of my arms. I’ve got to get there before the storm. And before Lenny.

  CHAPTER 14

  By the time I splash round the point at Dawson’s Beach my shoulders are on fire and my throat is raw. The layer of cloud has rolled right across the channel, wrapping the hilltops in murky darkness. The wind blows steadily into the beach and I can hear the sound of waves crashing on the sand. The first cold spots of rain land on my sweating face.

  I scoot into shore on the crest of a wave, managing to keep upright more by luck than skill. As soon as the kayak crunches on the sand I clamber out into the shallows. I haul the kayak up the beach as far as I can, my soaked sneakers slipping and sliding on the sand. My arms feel like lead. The kayak probably isn’t far enough up the beach but it’s all I can manage. Sorry again, Glynn.

  For a few seconds I peer through the darkness, scanning the pathway that snakes down the slope on the farm side of the valley. I can’t see anything moving downhill. I’ve arrived ahead of Lenny and Ripper. Thank God.

  I stumble along the beach towards the protesters’ campsite. There’s no boat anchored in the shallows but I can see a faint light glowing through the walls of the tent. It looks like torchlight. Someone’s still there.

  What if it’s Mere? The thought of coming face to face with the old woman makes my stomach turn over. Please God, make it anyone but Mere in the tent. The wind shoves hard at my back. Get going, Bel. Don’t give up now. The life vest makes me feel swollen and awkward but at least it’s giving me some protection against the wind.

  Eventually the person inside the tent hears my approach. The flap lifts and someone stands silhouetted against the light of a torch lying on the ground inside. ‘Who is it?’ Daniel’s voice calls. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Bel,’ I cry but it comes out as a faint squeak. I must look half dead because his mouth falls open and he hurries towards me. I sort of collapse, leaning so heavily against him that he staggers backwards.

  ‘Bel!’ he says, managing to get his balance. ‘What’s the matter? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Lenny,’ I choke. ‘Coming. Drunk. Got a gun.’

  ‘Lenny? That stupid old bloke from your farm?’

  ‘Yes.’ I’m beginning to catch my breath. ‘He’s drunk. Totally wasted. He’s coming over the hill. He’s got a gun and that horrible dog of his. I think he’s going to shoot someone. Daniel, you’ve got to get out of here. Is there anyone else with you?’

  Daniel shakes his head. ‘No. Only me. The last hope. Mere wanted me to spend a night here on my own.’

  ‘Okay. We’ve got to get away from the tent and hide somewhere.’

  ‘Hang on! Look, I’m not going to run away just because some old git’s had too much booze. He can piss off back to whatever hole he crawled out of.’ He tries to lead me into the tent. ‘Come on, Bel, let’s ge
t out of the rain.’

  I dig my feet into the sand. ‘Daniel, he’s gone crazy! I’ve seen him. He’s determined to shoot somebody. And what about that bloody dog? Even if Lenny doesn’t manage to shoot us I bet he’s too drunk to stop the dog attacking us.’

  I can hardly see Daniel’s face in the darkness but his voice is stubborn. ‘I’m not running away. For God’s sake, Bel, why did you come over here on your own? Why didn’t you just get your uncle to deal with him?’

  ‘There’s nobody home! They’ve all gone to a party. I went for a walk and saw Lenny drinking and waving his gun around. He’s totally off his head. He’ll be on the track right now.’ I clutch at his shirt. ‘We’ve got to get out of here!’

  Daniel takes hold of my arm and tries again to lead me into the tent. ‘Calm down, Bel. Come inside and sit down and we’ll figure out what to do. We’re just getting wet standing out here.’

  ‘No!’ I yell. ‘I don’t want to sit down! I want us to go!’ I swing round and scan the dark hillside at the far end of the beach. My stomach lurches. ‘Look! He’s coming!’ There’s a small light, probably from a torch, jerking its way down towards the beach. Over the boom of the waves I hear the deep, excited barking of a dog. ‘We’ve got to get away from the tent. He’s going to shoot you!’ Daniel stares up at the wavering pinpoint of light. Ripper barks again. It’s a terrifying sound, hollow in the darkness. Then there’s another noise, a loud sharp report. ‘Hear that? He’s shooting!’ I cry.

  The tent flap lifts in the wind, and in the torchlight I can see Daniel’s face change from angry to alarmed. ‘Shit.’ He looks around. ‘Where can we hide?’

  I shrug helplessly. The sea is a rolling, black mass, white-tipped breakers hurling themselves on the shore. The wind blusters round our ears, making the walls of the tent billow and snap like sails. ‘We could go into the bush,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe he’s too drunk to bother chasing us once he sees the tent’s empty.’

  ‘What about the dog? Won’t it be able to track us?’

  ‘I don’t know! Probably!’ I can hear myself shrieking, my voice matching the wind. ‘Daniel, come on! We’ve got to go!’

  He ducks inside the tent and grabs a jacket and the torch, switching it off. ‘Okay, okay. Which way?’

  I don’t know. All I know is that I have to put as much distance as possible between us and Lenny. I set off towards the rocks at the far end of the beach, the opposite end to the one where Lizzie’s stone chair sits. We lurch through the dark, heads down, our faces stinging from the flying sand. ‘D’you know where you’re going?’ Daniel gasps, switching the torch on and shining it ahead of us along the beach. I can see the stream gleaming in the shallow channel a couple of metres ahead.

  ‘Turn the torch off!’ I snap. ‘He’ll see the light.’

  Daniel clicks the switch. ‘Sorry.’

  We stumble over the sand for a few more seconds. My jeans are cold and clammy against my skin. I begin to shiver. Where can we go? Maybe there’s a crevice in the rocks where we can hide. But Ripper will still find us. Oh, God.

  Then I see it. A light just ahead, next to the stream. ‘Look!’ I peer desperately through the murk. The light seems to be coming from some kind of covered lantern. There’s a dark figure holding it up in the air. The figure wears a long skirt and something red draped over its head like a shawl. It beckons to us. ‘Lizzie!’ I cry.

  ‘What?’ Daniel asks.

  ‘There…’ I say, pointing. Then I realise. I can see her but he can’t.

  Suddenly there’s another sharp crack from the other end of the beach. It’s followed by a volley of frenzied barks. ‘Christ,’ Daniel mutters.

  ‘Come on!’ I start running towards the swinging lantern. It moves up the beach towards the scrub-covered bank next to the stream. ‘Follow me!’

  Daniel runs behind me. ‘Bel!’ he gasps. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Never mind!’ I bellow over my shoulder. ‘Just shut up and run.’

  Lizzie seems to glide over the ground, her lantern throwing out a small, steady light. She moves up the bank and across the grass, threading carefully between tossing bushes and clattering clumps of flax. Daniel and I claw our way up the bank. ‘The creek!’ Daniel puffs. ‘Of course! The dog won’t be able to follow our scent through the water.’

  I’m too breathless to answer him. There’s another gunshot behind us, and more frantic barks. The barking is mixed with ferocious snarling, as if the dog’s actually attacking something. I hear Lenny’s voice shout and then another gunshot. He must have reached the tent.

  By this time we’ve arrived at the trees lining the bank of the creek. Lizzie and her lantern move smoothly between the tree trunks and out into the middle of a shallow pool. Daniel and I stand teetering on the edge as Lizzie glides across the water, heading upstream. There’s no noise of water splashing or stones crunching underfoot. She turns a pale moon of face towards us and beckons once again. ‘Come on!’ I wade into the stream, slipping and slithering over the stones. Daniel follows close behind me.

  It’s only my trust in Lizzie that gives me the energy to wade up the creek. I’m so tired. So cold. If I stumble and fall I’ll never get up again. The trees seem to be reaching for us, black branches thrashing wildly in the glow of Lizzie’s lantern. I can’t help remembering the other time I followed this creek up the valley. Even then, in full daylight, I’d felt uneasy, like an intruder into the ancient secrets of the place. But for Lizzie and her lantern I’d turn tail and run back to the beach and face up to Lenny.

  ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Daniel growls. ‘There’s something strange here.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reply, fumbling for his cold, wet hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘We’ll be safe. Promise.’

  I’m stumbling badly on the stones. I can hardly feel my feet and hands. I just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. But then Lizzie moves to the far side of the stream and begins to drift up the steep, rocky cliff face, her light glimmering between black tree trunks. ‘Up the cliff,’ I tell Daniel.

  ‘Up there?’ Daniel groans. ‘We’ll break our necks. Bel, are you sure about this?’

  ‘Just climb,’ I say between chattering teeth. ‘It’ll be okay.’ It’s a relief of a kind to step out of the freezing water. I grab hold of a small bush and began to haul myself up the cliff towards Lizzie’s light.

  We crawl like insects up the wet rocks, our feet skidding from under us and our hands frantically grasping for branches, roots, clumps of grass, anything to stop us tumbling back down into the creek. All the time, Lizzie’s lantern moves upwards ahead of us, casting just enough light so I can scrabble for hand and footholds. We have no breath left for talking. We just climb. We both know we’re climbing for our lives.

  Finally the beacon stops moving upwards. It poises itself at the edge of a large rock. We gasp and heave our way up the crevice beside the rock and haul ourselves over the edge. We kneel on the rocky ledge, trying to get our breath back.

  I can see Lizzie’s face much more clearly now. Her eyes are dark pits and her skin is transparently white. She looks far more ghostlike than she’d ever seemed on the beach. And much, much sadder. I can almost smell the unhappiness coming off her. For an eternity Lizzie stares at me. Then without taking her eyes off mine she lifts a hand and points along the ledge. My gaze follows the direction of her hand. There’s a black, gaping hole, partially hidden by bushes. ‘A cave!’ I gasp.

  When I look back, Lizzie has gone. All that’s left is a cloud of pale light which churns and coils on itself until suddenly it vanishes, leaving me in wet windblown darkness. ‘Come on!’ Daniel gasps in my ear. ‘Let’s have a look. We’ll die of exposure if we stay here.’ I hear him crawl on hands and knees to the entrance. Then I hear a click and light from his torch spills into the blackness of the cave. I crawl over and kneel beside him and we stare into our sanctuary.

  It’s not a very deep cave. The roof is just over Daniel’s head at the entrance, sloping
down to the sandy floor about six metres in. In the light of the torch the rocks jutting from the roof cast wavering, black shapes on the ground. Off to one side is the darkness of another opening. From where we’re crouching I can’t see if it’s a tunnel or just a dead end.

  The best thing about the cave is that it’s dry. Weta and spiders and other creepy crawlies will be hiding in the cracks, but all I can think of is collapsing on to that lovely, dry, sandy floor. And sleeping for a week.

  Daniel gets to his feet and walks into the cave, ducking his head. I’m too tired to walk so I crawl along behind him. The air smells of dust, a sort of dry, catchy smell. Daniel moves farther in, crouches, and swings the torch beam to shine inside the alcove on the side. ‘What’s that?’ he says.

  ‘What?’ I mutter. I can barely keep my eyes open but I lift my head to see what he’s looking at. Right at the back of the alcove is a heap of something. There’s a round, greyish-white object at one end and beside that are other knobbly things of different shapes and sizes. I suddenly know what it is. Daniel recognises it too. ‘It’s a skeleton,’ he says in a low voice. ‘Don’t look, Bel.’

  I stagger to my feet and stumble over to kneel beside him. He takes my arm as if to turn me away. I shake his hand off. ‘I have to see!’

  I study the forlorn heap of bones. There’s no clothing left now, just small piles of dust and debris. But as I scan the length of the skeleton, my eye falls on something that looks out of place under the curved rib bones. I move closer and bend over to get a better view. It’s a greenstone pendant in the shape of a fish-hook.

  Something else catches my gaze. It’s lying just under the bones of the hand. ‘Shine the torch here,’ I tell Daniel. I lean over to examine the object, although I already know what it is. A small leather-bound book, so dried-out and fragile that it’s sure to disintegrate as soon as it’s touched.