by Denis Martin
I’d imagined wandering inside, browsing the menus, having a casual word with Kat behind the counter, maybe getting myself a waffle, chatting her up. That’s what I’d imagined, but I hadn’t actually thought about it. Not till I got here anyway. Now that I was here, standing on the footpath, now I was thinking about it. Thinking about Kat, and how she didn’t want me invading her space. How it must seem to her. How every time the gods were slapping her down, she’d look up and find me watching. And here I was again, hanging around like a pus-laden zit on her chin.
So what the hell was I doing?
I’d come across on the ferry with Jed. He’d promised to help a mate fix his outboard, and I’d invented some groceries we needed from the supermarket. I was kidding myself though. I knew I’d see Kat tomorrow at school, but I wanted to see her today.
So what was I?
Crazy?
Some kind of pervert?
Somehow, I think Jed would’ve understood. “If you reckon Kat’s a bit on the filipticious side,” he’d grinned, “you wait’ll you see Blissy.” He liked making up his own words and sometimes he was hard to understand, but I got the drift that Kat’s mum was a bit of all right – and that he had the hots for her. So I thought he’d understand.
I’d been gazing around hopelessly, wondering what to do next, but suddenly I focused on one of the cars parked on the far side of the street. And it felt like an elbow in the gut. I knew that car. A green Ford – and I knew the man sitting behind the wheel too. Bullyboy. Staring straight at me.
I looked away quickly. What was he doing here? Waiting for Kat? But why? And had he really been watching me? Or was I going mad? My heart picked up a few notches and I could feel blood thumping through my head. A twitching shudder at the back of my knee. Fear.
Bullyboy hadn’t ever done anything to me. He hadn’t even threatened me. That first day I’d seen him, his eyes had told me to keep my nose out of his business, but he’d never actually said anything. Why then, was I so scared?
It’s hard to act casual when your body’s got the shakes, but I tried. I turned slowly, as if deciding which way to go, letting my eyes pass briefly over the car. Then I began walking back up the street. But there was no doubt about it – every time I glanced around, he was watching me. Eyes boring straight into me from the other side of the road. Why? And what was he doing there?
I was trying to keep my cool, to walk normally, but at the first corner I slipped around it and started jogging. Jed was at the marina, thank God, where he’d said he would be. And no sign of his mate, which was even better. I wanted to catch him alone. He was lounging against an alloy trailer boat. The hood was off the motor, and he was clutching a fag in one hand and a can of beer in the other. Another couple of cans were sitting on the hood.
“Well, that didn’t take long.” He grinned and peered at the empty backpack I was carrying. “Thought you were off to get some groceries. Changed your mind?”
“No … um …”
His grin faded. “What is it? You look like you’ve got a hedgehog tangled in your Y-fronts.”
“It was … you know, that bloke I was telling you about? The one who was hassling Kat.” I told him about seeing Bullyboy outside the ice-cream shop.
“Did he do anything?”
“No. Like I said, he just sat there staring at me.” Put like that it all sounded pretty silly. You’re allowed to look at other people. It’s not against the law.
But again, Jed seemed to be taking it seriously – and I was grateful. Really grateful. Could imagine trying to share this one with Dad.
“So Kat was inside working, and he was outside in the car? Should we ask why you happened to be there too?” He smiled briefly. “No, we probably shouldn’t. You’d better be careful – it’s pretty easy to be labelled a pervert in a town like this.” He shook the beer he was holding and took a final swig. Then he crushed the can and tossed it into the boat. “Tell you what. Wally’s gone off to get some fuel. Shouldn’t be long. When he gets back, we’ll borrow his wagon and cruise past the ice-cream parlour. See if this guy’s still there.”
I nodded.
“Another thing …” He hesitated as if wondering whether to tell me. Then he seemed to make up his mind. “I saw Blissy last night. She cooked up a feed.” Another pause. “There’s something … I dunno … I hadn’t noticed it before, but I reckon she’s scared. Both of them, they seem sort of nervous.”
“And you think …?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Anyway, here comes Wally.”
The green station wagon was still parked opposite the ice-cream shop, with a man sitting in the driver’s seat. I was wearing Wally’s shades and covering the side of my face with my hand, so I only caught a glimpse of him. But it was Bullyboy, all right.
“Don’t know him,” muttered Jed beside me. “Never seen him before. You’re sure it’s the same guy?”
“Yeah. Don’t think I’m gonna forget him in a hurry.”
“Bit scary having him hanging round like that.” Jed was driving one-handed, scratching his head. “Maybe I’d better have a word with Blissy.”
“Shit no! Kat’ll go clean off. She’ll know it came from me. Let’s just leave it for a bit.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment or two. “Okay, you’re probably right. There’s a fine line between looking out for someone and poking your nose into their business. Doesn’t pay to step over it. I’m going to keep my eyes open. You too. I don’t like any of this.” Another pause – plenty to think about. “But what about the gun? Dirty old men perving at kids don’t usually go that far. D’you really think he might’ve had one? You didn’t actually see it?”
I shook my head. “No, but there was something under his jacket. It looked like one of those shoulder holsters. You know, like plain-clothes cops wear on telly.” I was trying to picture what I’d seen – his jacket falling open – but all I could see was the bullyboy anger in his eyes. “At first, I didn’t think it could be a gun, but now … I dunno,” I said.
“I guess that makes two of us,” said Jed as we eased into a parking space near the launching ramp where Wally was waiting.
Kat was sitting on the jetty when Jed dropped me off the next morning, but she stood up when she saw me. Clutching her bag to herself, like some kind of barrier, she gave me a sour look. “You were hanging around the ice-cream shop yesterday.”
“What?” I wasn’t ready for this.
“Gelato Heaven. You were hanging around while I was working.”
“Um … yes, I did go there.” I’d been pretty sure she hadn’t seen me, and I was floundering. “I … I wanted a gelato. Then I saw you were in there … and I sort of lost my nerve. Thought you’d think I was pestering you. So I didn’t come in.” Some of it was true.
She didn’t say anything. Just stood there glaring at me with her arms folded across her bag. I couldn’t tell whether she believed me or not, and I wished the ferry would hurry up and get here. I could see it over her shoulder, ploughing its way across the channel.
Finally, she snorted softly and gave me a slight nod. Then she turned away.
We stayed pretty well clear of each other for the rest of the day. She spent the ferry ride sweating away at some homework and then made her way to school with a couple of other girls. I had enough sense not to gatecrash the party and walked by myself, turning things over in my mind. Obviously, she hadn’t been overjoyed to see me at the ice-cream shop – but it was weird. How had she known I was there?
If the school day had started badly, it finished on an even worse note. I strolled to the gates with Simon, chatting about the local firebugs. He reckoned it was crazy to suggest that last week’s house fire could’ve been an accident – like all the other kids he was hyped to boiling point. The idea of a serious arsonist on the block had put some real spice into Cooksville life.
We parted at the gates and I turned towards the ferry wharf, head down, hands in pockets, backpack hooked over one shoulder. Wouldn’
t say I didn’t have a care in the world, but as Mondays go, this one had been okay. I’d managed to stay out of Burger’s way, I’d kept more or less out of trouble and I’d just about convinced myself I could smooth things over with Kat.
I peered around, wondering where she’d got to – and that was when things started to fall apart. She was well ahead of me with another group of kids, and I watched as they disappeared around the bend. Then I saw something else. A car parked in the shade about fifty metres away. It wasn’t the only one – there were several others parked along the street, mostly parents picking up their kids. But this was a dark green Ford. A station wagon.
They call it deja vu. It’s when you come across something that seems to have already happened, maybe in a past life. Or, in this case, the day before. The same car … and the same sense of fear. My heart was pounding. It was like walking into an ice shadow – cold prickles down the back of my neck. I’d been sweating in the heat of the day, but now my shirt was cold and clammy, sticking to me across the shoulders. I was frightened. No way did I want to walk along this street if Bullyboy was there, waiting. But was he? The car was there, but there was no one in it.
Anyway, who would he be waiting for? Kat had already gone past, heading off down to the waterfront and the ferry. So who else?
Me?
Get a grip on yourself, Cully. It’s only a car. And he’s not even in it. I gave myself a fierce mental kick and carried on – eyes searching nervously. Almost unable to breathe. Then I was right beside it. The same car – I was certain of it.
I could see it was locked. Heart thumping against my rib cage, I flung another glance over my shoulder, but no sign of Bullyboy.
Come on, Cully. How chicken are you? You need to find out who he is.
I forced myself to bend down, peering inside. A manila folder was lying on the passenger seat, but it didn’t have anything written on the cover. And even if the doors hadn’t been locked, what would I have done? Grabbed the folder and thumbed through it? People were sitting in parked cars all along the street. Were they watching? And where was Bullyboy?
I glanced around again – and that’s when I saw him. He’d been standing in the shadow of a group of trees. Or maybe behind one of them. Now he came towards me, walking calmly.
I stood there frozen. Couldn’t move.
He stopped beside the Ford, dwarfing me. “This isn’t your car, is it, sonny?”
I shook my head numbly. Couldn’t find my voice.
“Then keep your nose out of it.” His voice was flat, with a faint Australian accent, his eyes hidden behind dark shades. Everything about him was menacing – exactly as he intended.
“Yes,” I finally croaked.
He nodded and stood aside to let me pass.
CHAPTER SIX
How do you tell someone they’ve got a stalker on their tail? Someone like Kat. Someone who’s just ripped into you for following them? Well, the answer is, you don’t. Not unless you’re driven by some kind of moronic death wish.
But I had to tell her. If I didn’t, it might get back to her from Jed – and that would be worse. Everywhere she went Bullyboy seemed to be there, watching. Watching and waiting. And that first time I’d seen him, on the jetty, he’d even accosted her. What was he up to?
If I was going to talk to her, the sooner the better, but I’d missed the ferry she was on, and by the time the next one arrived, she was long gone. Dad was waiting for me with Jed’s old ute – his own wheels were still away in Thames – and Kat was almost home on her bike by the time we caught up with her. So it was next morning before I had a chance to tell her about Bullyboy.
But it wasn’t easy. Dad hadn’t returned Jed’s ute yet, and when he dropped me off at the ferry, I almost chickened out. The problem was I’d had the whole night to think about it. The worst thing was that I actually had to go up and ask if I could talk to her. Couldn’t just drop it into casual conversation – she seemed to be avoiding conversation, casual or otherwise.
I saw my chance soon after the ferry docked. She was a few metres in front of me and hurrying to catch up with the group ahead. Probably so she wouldn’t run the risk of walking to school with me.
I steeled myself and called after her. “Kat? Can I have a word? There’s something I need to tell you.”
She stopped, then turned. I’d been tense, waiting for an explosion, so the expression on her face was relief. Not exactly smiling, but there was no savagery there either. And at least she was waiting for me to catch up.
“You are still talking to me then?” she said, and this time it was a smile – a lopsided one though, because she was biting one side of her lower lip. She seemed as nervous as I was. “I didn’t … I thought I might’ve been a bit shitty with you yesterday. I didn’t think you’d …” She tailed off, floundering.
“No, no. That’s okay.” I paused awkwardly. This was going much better than I’d expected – we were walking together now, side by side. I didn’t want to spoil things, but I mightn’t get another chance. “You … you thought I’d been following you, didn’t you?”
She nodded, starting to say something, and I cut her off. “No. Fair enough. It’s okay. But …” I swallowed and took a deep breath. “It’s just that … I reckon there is someone following you.”
“What?” Her eyes warned me to be careful. “What’re you on about?”
I was losing my nerve, but I stumbled on. “That bloke who came up to you on the jetty a week or so ago. Remember? You were arguing with him.”
“So? He was just a … just some kind of nutter.”
“Yeah, maybe. But do you know him?” I took the plunge. “I think he’s following you. Seen him several times.”
Something strange was happening now in her eyes. Anger? Or it could’ve been fear. “Like when?”
“Um, well, he was waiting at the jetty that day it was raining … and he was outside the ice-cream shop on Sunday when you were there. And yesterday, after school, he was waiting outside. He drives a green station wagon. And I think he might …”
“Might what?”
I’d been going to mention the gun. But I didn’t. “Nothing.”
She was silent for a moment or two. Thinking. Then she stopped walking and turned to face me. “What makes you think he was following me? Couldn’t he be following you? But whoever he is, I don’t know him.” Something really weird seemed to be going on in her head, her eyes flickering like she was struggling with about a million maths problems at the same time. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. “Look – thanks for telling me. But I’m not worried about him, so you shouldn’t be either. Why don’t we just forget about him and see if he goes away?” She turned towards school again and began walking. “Anyway, what are you entering for? You know, in the house competitions?” A deliberate change of subject.
I fell in beside her gratefully. I’d done my best. I’d raised the subject – and come out of it more or less unscathed. She hadn’t spat fire, she hadn’t kneecapped me, and even better, we were still on speaking terms. But I knew we hadn’t solved the problem.
“Haven’t really thought about it yet,” I answered. “Only found out yesterday what house I’m in.”
“Same as me.” She flicked her hair back so I could see her face. “East.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” North, South, East and West, depending on where you live. So that made sense, considering we were neighbours, both living in the Eastern Bays. “But I’m damned if I know what to enter. I jog a bit to keep fit, though the cross-country doesn’t turn me on much.”
“If you don’t make your own entries, they’ll put you in the cross-country. And public speaking.”
“Yeah.” Neither of those options did much for me. “What about you?”
“Probably have a go at touch – it’s pretty painless. And for the cultural one, maybe the choir.”
“Mmm.” Touch rugby sounded good to me too. We were both in the same house so I’d probably end up in her team – an
d that would be really good. Even so, I was having trouble concentrating on the competitions. “What about that bloke that’s been following you though? He’s not gonna just fade away, is he?” Trouble with me is I never know when to shut up.
She tossed her hair off her face again, this time with an angry movement. Then she stopped suddenly, turning away from me, fists clenched. But only for a second. She spun back, and we stood face to face, her eyes flickering again. Then they focused on me. “Look,” she said, “you’ve already got right up my nose a couple of times. Can’t you take a hint?” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m trying to be nice to you. We’re neighbours. I think we need to get along with each other. And I think you’re … okay. But can you lay off on this one? Your phantom stalker’s not a problem. He’s a … he’s a cop.”
“A cop? So why would he be following you? I ask”
“Jeez,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Can’t you let it go? He’s not following me. He … he’s following everybody. He’s after the guys that’ve been setting fire to everything.”
“But …” I hesitated, and then blundered on. “Why was he hassling you on the jetty that day?”
Another shake of the head. “He wasn’t hassling me. He wanted to know if I’d seen any kids on the street when I’d finished work on Saturday.” She paused, glaring at me. “That’s all. Satisfied?”
I wasn’t, but common sense finally kicked in and I dropped my eyes. “All right. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just back off on that one.”
So we talked about the house competitions. My mind was playing its own butterfly games. But there was plenty she wasn’t telling me – I knew that. Did I really want to find out about it? I wanted to get to know Kat, but if I had half a brain, I’d stay out of her problems.
The coolest thing though, way cool, was that she’d said I was okay. I could’ve walked on water.
I was okay.
Of course, by the time I went to put my name down for the touch team I was too late. They’d already made up the squad. The only choices left were boxing or the cross-country. No contest. Four rounds of a minute and a half each against a whole afternoon of splashing mindlessly through swamps and scrambling over mountains.