by Beale, Fleur
‘It might give way!’ I screeched, seeing mangled brother in my mind.
‘Yeah, but it might not. Only one way to find out.’ He let go, dropped, landed, wobbled then stabilised and the rock stayed where it was. ‘Yeehaaa!’
‘Noah?’
‘What?’
‘How are you going to get back up?’
He didn’t answer — too busy scrambling down the tumble of rocks to the beach, but his laugh floated up. I solved the problem. I hauled the rope back up and lengthened it by tying the handles from the yacht on to it.
I chucked the camera around my neck, grabbed the rope and began the grand descent. Whoever would have thought PE would turn out to be a halfway useful subject? All those rope sessions in the gym came pouring back.
Stones and dirt rattled away from under my feet. Maybe we should’ve dug that post in deeper. I could see it in my mind, slowly sliding out and out.
Noah’s voice came bouncing up to me. ‘I’ve got the hook baited. I’ll just climb out here and throw the line in.’
I felt he’d be much better employed acting as a landing pad in case of post slippage or knot undo-age but I was a bit too occupied to yell at him.
Aha! At last — the knots. Not much further and — yippee — there was a solid rock under my slightly shaky feet. Made it.
I took a shot of the slip. Quite impressive. Now for the brother with the fishing line.
‘Noah!’
No reply, but I located him — lying flat on a large, jagged rock sticking out into the waves and a couple of metres above them. He turned his head and I caught his grin on camera. I ambled towards him. Now that I was here, now that I was faced with the possibility of murdering an innocent fish, I discovered I wasn’t all that keen on the idea.
But it would be so damned good to eat.
‘Think it’ll work?’ I asked, dropping down beside prone bro.
‘Shh.’
Oh yeah. Sorry. Forgot. You have to fish in silence. I could do that. I lay down too, but on my back. I could get to like this — sun, sea, birds, no wind, no warring parents and Noah doing all the work.
I think I went to sleep, then I woke up and fishing had lost its appeal. ‘Going exploring,’ I whispered.
Noah nodded and kept holding the line.
Another whisper. ‘Is the bait still on it?’
He gave me a look that started off in the superior what would you know about anything range and ended up down the thoughtful end. He pulled the line in. No bait. I chuckled and got out of there in case he decided I was on bait duty.
I jumped down on to the sand, sat down and took off my boots. Sand! Should have brought the spade down because this beach needed a sandcastle. Next time.
I put my boots back on and ventured into rock-land at the other end of the beach. Rock-land, I discovered, was inhabited by seals. At first I was enchanted — sweet, furry, cute seals, but then one of them did what seals do — let loose a huge shit. It stank, reeked, ponged. Time for a quick departure. I sat on the sand and admired the shags. They probably stank too.
It had to be getting late judging by the shadows slithering across my patch of sand. I did a few shots of shadows with Noah artistically draped on the rock in the background. ‘I’m a child of nature,’ I said. ‘I now tell the time by the sun. And by my stomach which is possibly the more reliable instrument. Time to go and here’s hoping the father has created the best food ever. No harm in dreaming.’
I got up to tell Noah. But wait! Activity on the Noah front. I started to run because it looked as if he had a fish on the end of his line, or if not a fish, then a very active chunk of seaweed.
It was a fish and lucky for me, he had it up on dry rock by the time I arrived. Unlucky for me though, it was still highly alive. Noah was too, with a grin as wide as the fish’s gaping mouth. ‘Poor fish,’ I said, which maybe wasn’t quite the most appropriate response, but I don’t think Noah heard because the grin stayed put. He yelled, ‘Grab me a rock, Min,’ and I swear the grin didn’t move a centimetre all through that.
I grabbed a rock and passed it to him. I didn’t look, but I couldn’t help hearing the thwack on the head of poor old fishy.
I’d never be able to eat it.
Yes, I would. Especially if Dad cooked it. ‘Cool, bro,’ I said in an effort to make up for previous inappropriateness.
He took his eyes off the fish for a nanosecond so that I got the full grin plus the shine from the eyes. ‘Let’s go home.’
Sweet.
He tied the fish over his shoulder and I filmed the pair of them scrambling back up the rope. Hmmm. That was not looking easy. Maybe the post would come out and I’d have to live forever on the beach with cute but putrid seals as my companions.
Noah got to the top.
‘Wait up!’ I yelled. ‘Don’t go without me!’
‘Hurry up then.’
I couldn’t believe it, except that I could — my darling brother was actually going to scarper and leave me to get to the top all by myself (which of course I was going to do anyway but that was not the point).
I slung the camera around my neck and started the great ascent.
‘Watch out!’
I looked up and there, rolling towards me, was half the cliff.
I ducked a rock the size of a netball. It zinged over my head. Gravel and dirt cascaded over and around me. A medley of tree parts shot down beside me, taking with it more rocks. Something thumped into my left leg, knocking me sideways. I lurched and teetered before my hand seized a tree root and I regained my balance.
‘Get out to the side!’ Noah yelled.
I got. It took a good-sized leap and a frantic scramble until I was clear of falling debris. Falling debris. I’d seen those words somewhere. Yes, that was it: road signs. Funny what the mind will do when the body is in extreme danger. Another rock and a slide of rubbish hurtled down far too close for comfort.
‘You okay?’ Noah peered at me from the lip of the slip.
‘If the bloody earth stops moving I will be.’ And if I didn’t fall off the tiny ledge I’d landed on. Bits of me hurt but if I tried to look I’d fall.
‘Hang on and don’t move,’ Noah called. ‘I’ll get Dad.’
I shifted my left leg. It was hurting. Something rattled away from under my foot.
‘Don’t move, Min! Just don’t move a single muscle. You’re okay where you are. Hang on.’ Noah vanished with the last words.
How long before Dad came? Would he be able to rescue me when he did come? What could Noah see that I couldn’t? He sounded scared. My fingers hurt. Better find a better hold. That was funny — better better. Be good when my leg was better better ’cause right now it felt worser worser and I reckon it was bleeding too. What if I left all my blood on the side of a cliff and all that was left of me was empty skin and bones?
Hold on, Min. Don’t let go. Not much longer. You can do it. Dad’ll kill you if you let go.
How far was it down to the beach anyway? Maybe I could climb down. Be better than staying here. Better than better.
I twisted my head to look down, and down. Funny, it was a long way. Rocks below me. Hard to make sense of it. Not better. Worser. A laugh bubbled up inside me. No. Don’t laugh. If I laughed I’d have to move. If I moved then I might fall. Not that far. Not really. About as far as the ground was from the roof of a house. Don’t want to fall though. The rocks look hard.
The slip had taken with it the rocks we’d climbed up on. There didn’t seem to be anything beneath my feet. Holy crap, if my ledge gave way I was going to end up in rock-sized pieces for the seals to eat. Were seals carnivores? Think about it, Min — they probably don’t eat seaweed.
Losing your mind here, girl. Deep breath. Not too deep, though. Don’t want to move too much. Shallow deep breaths. Calm. That’s what’s needed. A good dose of calm. And patient.
Come on, Dad.
They came at last. I heard their feet pounding down the access way. I hoped they wouldn’
t run so fast that they couldn’t stop and then we’d all be down here, mince on rocks.
My leg hurt. My arms ached. My fingers — don’t think about fingers.
‘Min? Can you hear me?’ Dad’s voice, sharp and urgent.
I didn’t move my head. ‘I’m okay. Want to come up though.’
‘We’re going to pull you up. Rope coming down now.’
There it was, dangling beside me. I stared at it.
Dad’s voice thumped into my head. ‘Put your left arm through the loop, Min. Carefully now. You can do it. That’s the girl. Well done!’
I stopped. Couldn’t do any more. Couldn’t let go with my right hand. Couldn’t face swinging out over the void.
Dad’s voice hit me again. ‘Hold on with your left hand. Swap your hands over, Min. That’s it. Good. Now get your right arm through the loop.’
‘Can’t.’
‘Yes, you can. That’s it. Gently does it. That’s good.’
I did it. Managed to push my arm through the loop, then I grabbed my hold back again with both hands.
‘Good girl,’ Dad said, still in that calm, slow voice. ‘We’re going to pull you up. Let go. That’s it. Well done. Use your legs to keep out from the cliff if you can.’
I dangled, swinging over sharp rocks.
The next few minutes were not the pleasantest of my life. The rope cut into my back and under my arms. I dangled and couldn’t do much to protect myself from the bumps and scrapes, but my mind hovered somewhere outside my body. It wondered if Dad and Noah would be strong enough to hold me or if they’d let me plummet to the bottom.
They didn’t. First, Noah reached down. ‘Give me your hand, Min.’
Then Dad grabbed the other one. They played swapsies. No, wrong. Dad now had both my hands and Noah was out of sight but since the rope was taut he probably was still hanging about. No, that’s right. Me. I was the one hanging about.
‘Min.’ Dad was speaking like I was a two-year-old idiot. Maybe he thought I was. ‘I’m going to pull you up on the count of three. Okay?’
‘Anything’s got to be better than this,’ I said, but Dad had got to three.
Wham! My arms jerked, stretching all the socket tendons and there I was, sprawling on the track.
That was not at all what I’d been expecting.
Dad gathered me up in the hugest hug. ‘You idiot. You stupid, daft, crazy idiot. I should beat you till you’re raw.’
‘Dad, look at her leg.’ Noah’s voice had a touch of urgency about it.
‘It’s not broken,’ I said. ‘I could stand on it. Hurts though.’
Noah’s face was an interesting shade of grey. ‘But look at the blood! She’s bleeding to death.’
Dad snapped, ‘She’d be dead by now if she was bleeding to death. Let’s have a look, Min.’
I was vaguely interested myself. Noah, however, turned his head away. Funny — he could kill a fish, but not look at a bloody leg. ‘Where’s the fish?’ I asked.
Nobody answered. Dad put both hands in a tear in the leg of my overalls and ripped. There was a gash above my knee and scrapes and grazing below it. ‘You’re bloody lucky this didn’t hit an artery,’ Dad said. ‘You’ll live.’ He sounded sorry.
I dropped my head. It felt like the wound was inside me, somewhere around my heart. But then he hugged me again. ‘Christ, Min — you damn near died. Idiot, you crazy idiot. I ought to belt the living backside off you.’ But he held me tight and I could feel the thumping of his heart. The soreness around my own heart vanished.
He let me go. ‘We’ll put something over the leg to stop the bleeding till we get you home.’
Noah handed him his T-shirt. Not the last word in an antiseptic dressing, but who was I to complain? Dad folded it into a pad but now we needed something to tie it with. ‘Have to be the bra, Min,’ Noah said.
Smart-arse. Did I prefer him when he’d been too stoned to have such bright ideas? But the bra it was. I filmed Dad tying it on even though my hand shook. Dad breathed deeply a few times but didn’t utter any of the words choking him.
They helped me to my feet and stood me up between them, an arm each around me. ‘I can walk,’ I muttered.
They ignored me. Just as well. Leg hurt like hell and I couldn’t put much weight on it. It was a long, long way up the path.
The wind caught us at the top so that the walk to the house wasn’t much easier.
Mum was waiting on the verandah. Dad and Noah eased me down on to the verandah seat and took off my boots. Noah lifted the camera from around my neck.
‘Inside with you,’ Dad said, helping me to my feet — foot.
‘Cold,’ I muttered.
‘You’ll be okay soon,’ Dad said. ‘Lie down here and I’ll fix that leg properly.’
Somebody had put a mattress beside the wood-burner. I folded myself carefully down on to it. Still cold.
‘Min!’ Mum whispered. She tucked blankets around me and put a hottie beside me. Dad lifted my leg and propped it up on something.
‘That’s right. Shock. Foot above head,’ I said, and I smiled at them. Nice. All of us here and being friendly. What more could a girl want?
A clean wound, apparently.
‘She needs antibiotics,’ Mum said, still in that ghostly whisper.
‘Have to make do with disinfectant and sterile water.’ Dad. Talking to Mum. Nice.7
I shut my eyes. It was lovely here in the warm. Better than on the beach. I could hear birds outside hopping on the wooden floor of the verandah. Birds smelled better than seals. No, maybe they didn’t. Fairy prion burrows smelt bad too. Nice to be warm again.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry,’ said Dad, not sounding it. ‘But we have to clean it up. God knows when this wind will stop. We have to keep this free of infection till the chopper can get in with antibiotics.’
Still cold.
Mum helped me out of my overalls and into PJs. ‘There’s a graze on your shoulder too.’
‘Can’t feel it. It’ll be all right.’
But no, it had to get the clean treatment too.
It was dark by the time they’d finished patching me up.
They had dinner. I didn’t want anything. ‘Not hungry.’ And I was still cold.
twenty-four
I slept that night on the floor beside the woodburner. Dad dragged his mattress in. ‘To keep an eye on you,’ he said.
I couldn’t be bothered telling him I wasn’t intending to go anywhere. Then, what do you know — Noah turned up dragging his mattress as well and once we were all snug in bed, Mum drifted in with a duvet and settled down on the couch.
‘We didn’t eat the fish,’ I murmured.
I heard sharp intakes of breath from Dad’s direction, and then from Mum’s, but all Dad said was, ‘I’ll cook it tomorrow. We’ll have it for lunch.’
Happy families. All you had to do was nearly kill yourself and, hey presto, you had talking parents again. Almost worth it.
My leg throbbed when the night was deeply dark and the wind roared overhead. I sat up to see if that would help. Dad woke up and brought me a couple of painkillers. Then he helped me hobble out to the toilet. ‘I reckon that’s what I’ll like best about being home again,’ I said. ‘A proper loo.’
Dad chuckled. ‘You’ve done well though, Min — apart from the cliff episode. I’m proud of you.’ He gave me a hug then opened the loo door for me.
I hopped inside. He was proud of me. Well, well, Minna H — how about that? Something to remember when we got home and he disappeared forever.
I was shivering when we got back to the house. Dad refilled my hottie, opened the door of the burner to let the warmth out and tucked me up. ‘Night, Minna. Sleep well.’
I gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Night, Dad.’ I turned my head away, but he must’ve seen my face in the glow from the embers.
‘What’s wrong? Is your leg bad?’
I shook my head. ‘No. It’s okay.’
He stroked my hair
. ‘What, then?’
‘Nothing — just, it’s nice having you around is all. I’m okay. Thanks Dad. Go back to bed.’ Not the time to start a fight, and anyway, I didn’t have the energy.
But he didn’t get mad. ‘I’ll be around, Min. How many times do I have to say it?’
I sighed. Sleepy. ‘Yeah, but you’ll be like a lighthouse. It won’t be like here.’ My eyes wouldn’t stay open. I didn’t even hear him slide back into his own bed.
Life lurched back to normal in the morning. Dad hauled Noah out of dreamland and made him put the mattresses away. Mum sat up and smiled at me. Dad ignored her.
I examined my leg. The most massive, technicolour bruise with a dash of white tape down the middle that held the skin together. ‘Wicked!’ said Noah.
Dad pointed at the table. ‘Sit there, the pair of you, and listen to what I’m going to say.’
Noah pulled a face and glanced at me. ‘Uh oh, here comes the lecture.’
‘You’d better believe it,’ Dad said, plopping himself down on the other side of the table. ‘You do realise, I hope, that it’s only by a miracle we’re not planning your funeral today, Min?’ None of the TLC from the night was hanging around right now.
‘Yeah, Dad. Sorry.’
He swivelled his eyes to skewer Noah. ‘Son?’
‘Yeah. Ditto.’
Dad breathed out very slowly. ‘Let me make it clear: you have to think of the possible consequences in a place like this. You didn’t.’ His serious-father stare took in both of us.
There wasn’t much else to say except sorry, which we did but that didn’t seem to be enough. He got up, then remembered something. ‘Min — what did you mean last night?’
‘Huh?’ I couldn’t remember much of the night. Certainly couldn’t remember saying anything he couldn’t understand.
He frowned and I suspect he was wishing he hadn’t brought it up. ‘The lighthouse comment. You said I’d be like a lighthouse when we get back.’
Noah grinned. ‘Shock, Dad. Don’t worry about it. She’s just lost another marble.’
Dad ignored him. ‘Min?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, you will be. Like the light, I mean. All or nothing.’