The Banksia Bay Beach Shack

by Sandie Docker

  Ian cheered her on. Ryan gave her a clap. And she went back in for another.

  She rode four waves successfully and couldn’t help but be a little proud of herself.

  As she paddled out the back again, she realised Heath hadn’t caught a single wave; he was just sitting there bobbing in the deep blue.

  ‘Waiting for the perfect ride?’ She paddled towards him.

  ‘Something like that.’ He reached out and took her hand.

  They sat in the water together, watching the others surf.

  ‘I wish we could stay out here forever,’ Laura said, linking her leg around Heath’s under the water. It was so calm, so peaceful, so far from reality.

  So perfect.

  ‘Me too.’ Heath rubbed her thigh. ‘Although I’ve been thinking all morning about what I’d like to do with you tonight, and I’m not sure we could manage it out here. But I would be willing to give it a try.’

  Laura leaned across her board and kissed him. He wrapped his hand behind her neck and held her there, leaving her in no doubt where his mind was. She pulled away.

  ‘I could be convinced.’ She breathed heavily.

  Heath groaned and slumped forward.

  ‘Heath? Are you okay?’

  He started to slip off the board.

  ‘Heath!’

  She held him above the water, his head in her lap. She looked around, panicked, not knowing what to do. She screamed for Ryan.

  He paddled towards them.

  ‘Help me,’ she called.

  Ryan put Heath on his board and turned towards the shore. Laura followed.

  They dragged Heath’s body up the sand and everyone rushed to their side.

  ‘He just sort of fell forward.’ Laura was breathing heavily.

  ‘Heath!’ Charlotte shouted, running to her brother. ‘Not now. Please, no.’ She knelt beside him.

  Laura stood there, unable to move. Ian and Trish hugged each other in the circle that formed around Heath’s wet, limp body. Virginia slowed down as she stepped towards her grandson. Aiden joined his mother, nestling into her lap.

  Ryan pulled his phone out of the folds of his towel, which lay on the sand with his thongs.

  Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Performing CPR or something?

  Laura stepped forward. Someone had to take charge.

  ‘Move out of the way.’ She barked the order at no one in particular and pushed forward. ‘Is he breathing?’ She turned to Charlotte.

  Charlotte was checking Heath’s pulse, his airway. ‘Laura,’ she said in a low, calm voice. ‘I think it might be his meningioma.’

  ‘His what?’ What is that? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

  ‘His brain tumour. I think he’s had a bleed. Come here.’

  She held out her hand and Laura took it, kneeling beside Heath in the sand.

  ‘He won’t have long.’

  What? What is Charlotte going on about?

  ‘Laura.’ Heath’s voice was ever so soft. She took his hand. His skin was clammy, pale.

  ‘It’s my time.’ His voice rasped. ‘Thank you.’ He closed his eyes.

  Charlotte let out a howl and Ryan scooped her into his arms. Virginia started to sob and Ian knelt down beside her, holding her to his chest. Aiden lay himself down next to Heath, his head on his uncle’s shoulder.

  Heath’s hand went soft in Laura’s.

  ‘Heath?’ she whispered, her throat so tight that the sound was little more than a squeak. She started CPR.

  When the ambulance finally arrived, Laura was still working on Heath’s chest. They pulled her away and checked him over. Then they took his body without words or fuss. Virginia would ride to the hospital with them. Ryan would follow in the car with Charlotte and Aiden.

  ‘I should go too.’ Laura turned to Ian and Trish. ‘I should be there when he wakes up.’

  Trish hugged her tightly.

  Laura knew he wasn’t breathing. She knew there was no pulse. But they hadn’t put a sheet over him. Didn’t they always put sheets over dead people? He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. She hadn’t stopped CPR. They would perform some sort of surgery at the hospital and he’d be okay.

  ‘Shh.’ Trish smoothed Laura’s hair.

  Did she say those thoughts out loud?

  ‘He’s at peace now,’ Trish whispered, through sobs.

  At peace. No. That meant he was gone.

  ‘Walk with me.’ Trish’s voice was calm, full of love.

  To the hospital? It’s a long way to walk.

  Trish led her back to the shack and they sat at one of the tables.

  This wasn’t the hospital. Why weren’t they going to the hospital?

  ‘It was his tumour, love. There was always a chance this could happen.’

  Laura stared at her, trying to comprehend her words. ‘What do you mean?’ She tried to listen to Trish’s response. He was diagnosed three years ago with a brain tumour, a meningioma. It was benign, but because of where it was, they couldn’t operate. With these things there’s always the risk of a bleed.

  But the woman’s words jumbled and made no sense. Meningi-what? Heath didn’t have a brain tumour. He was a fit young man.

  ‘He’s gone.’ Trish’s words were soft, absurd. ‘But we can take comfort that it happened while he was surfing. Doing what he so loved.’

  Gone. He was gone. No. He wasn’t.

  ‘And you brought him so much joy these last few weeks. I’ve never seen him so happy as when he looked at you.’

  Looked. Past tense. He would never look upon her again. No.

  ‘We were all so lucky to have him in our lives. God bless his soul. And he was lucky to have you come into his. As short a time as it was.’

  God bless his soul. His soul.

  ‘He’s gone?’ Laura tilted her head as she looked at Trish.

  The woman in the blue kaftan looked at Laura with sad eyes. ‘Yes, love.’

  Laura doubled over, gasping for air. Tears burst forth in a flood and she wept into her hands.

  Wandering from room to room around the holiday house, Laura felt numb. She was sure she would wake up any moment now and the whole horrible day would turn out to be a dream.

  She’d assured Trish and Ian she would be fine and they’d left her alone with the kettle boiling. She’d boiled it three times since and still hadn’t made a cuppa.

  After all, she wouldn’t be able to drink it once she woke up.

  But the minutes ticked by. The hours. And she didn’t wake.

  There was a light tap on the door. Charlotte stood on the verandah, her puffy eyes rimmed red.

  This wasn’t a dream at all.

  Laura opened the door. ‘Come in.’

  She poured two cups of tea and sat opposite Charlotte at the dining table, waiting for her to break the silence. She had no words to start their conversation.

  Charlotte stirred sugar into her cup, but didn’t take a sip.

  ‘He made me promise not to tell you.’ She kept her eyes on the table. ‘At first I didn’t think it would matter. You would breeze out of town as easily as you’d breezed in and you would never give any of us a second thought. Then you two got close. I spoke to him. A couple of times. But I couldn’t convince him to tell you.’

  She looked up and Laura held her gaze. So many secrets.

  ‘Was he always going to die?’

  Charlotte gulped. ‘No. But it was a possibility.’

  He’s not like other guys . . . more fragile than most. Charlotte’s words of warning took on a whole other meaning.

  ‘I suppose you figured I didn’t deserve to know, seeing as I kept my own secrets from you all.’ Laura pushed her teacup away.

  Charlotte jumped up and came round to Laura’s side of the table. ‘No. It wasn’t like that at all. As I said, at first I didn’t think it mattered. When I realised it did, I tried to get him to tell you. But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  Charlotte closed her eyes, and when she opened the
m again they were wet with tears. ‘He didn’t want you to treat him differently. Or worse, fall for him out of pity. He’d fallen for you. So completely.’ She sniffled. ‘He wanted to see if you felt the same way, without his tumour in the way.’

  Laura held back tears and walked around the room.

  Would she have treated him differently, pitied him if she’d known? Maybe. Possibly.

  ‘I did, you know.’ She turned and looked at Charlotte. ‘Feel the same way.’ The tears she’d been holding back pricked her eyes.

  ‘I know,’ Charlotte said. ‘And if it’s any consolation, he knew too.’

  Laura frowned. He hadn’t heard her say she loved him last night. Had he?

  ‘He told me at the shack before you all went out today . . . well, he said he was going to take you up to the cheese factory and tell you about his condition tomorrow. He wouldn’t have been willing to tell you if he wasn’t certain about how you felt. He said that the night of the storm made everything clear.’

  Laura closed her eyes. Sadness and anger and regret and understanding and grief and love all fought inside her.

  ‘I should go,’ Charlotte said. ‘Aiden’s devastated. I need to be with him.’

  ‘Of course. Of course. Poor little tyke. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. Give him a hug from me?’ She threw her arms around Charlotte before she left. ‘Thank you.’ Knowing Heath had known how she felt was indeed some small consolation.

  The next day, Laura didn’t leave the holiday house until just before sunset. She figured no one would miss her as they dealt with their own grief and, to be honest, she didn’t think she could face anyone. As the sun began to sink in the sky, she pulled on her tights and sneakers and went for a run.

  She ran and ran, through the hills surrounding the Bay, back and forth until her chest ached. In the dark she returned to the house and there was a note pushed into the screen door.

  When afternoon rolled around the following day, Laura picked her surfboard up off the verandah and headed down to the beach. The note had said half-past four.

  As Laura walked along the sand she could see people gathering at the shack from all directions. Everyone was wearing a wetsuit, even Virginia. And there were surfboards lined up three deep along the shore.

  From the deck of the shack all the way to the water, a line of lanterns hung from iron hooks half a metre high. Inside the lanterns candles were burning. Between each lantern, flower petals of pink and orange and yellow had been scattered.

  Laura greeted Virginia with a hug. Charlotte too.

  Yvonne sat in a wheelchair, a blanket tucked tightly around her legs. Laura bent down and embraced her.

  ‘They let me out for the day for this,’ the frail woman whispered, tears in her eyes.

  ‘We’re glad you came.’ Charlotte squeezed Laura’s hand. She turned around and picked up a wreath made of banksias from the table behind her. She walked along the lantern path and Ian joined Virginia, surfboard under his arm; Ryan joined Charlotte, with his surfboard too. Aiden followed, so did Laura. Yvonne waved to them from the beach.

  A long line of people walked behind and when they got to the water, everyone got on their boards and paddled out through the calm blue. They formed a circle, holding hands.

  Virginia, supported by Ian, nodded at Charlotte. Helped by Aiden on the board next to her, she pushed her wreath into the middle of the circle. Ian called at the top of his voice so the whole circle could hear, ‘For Heath.’

  Everyone raised their arms, holding onto the hand of the person next to them.

  ‘For Heath,’ the group echoed, and dropped their arms and splashed the water towards the wreath bobbing in the gentle swell. They splashed until Ian raised his arm and the circle joined hands once again. Then there was a long quiet as everyone said their own silent goodbye.

  Ian turned his board first, Virginia atop with her head held high. Then, one by one, the surfers peeled off the circle and caught waves back to shore. Laura waited till she was the last one left and gave Ian a thumbs up as he turned back to make sure she was okay.

  She put her fingers to her lips, kissed them and then trailed them in the water, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you, Heath. I love you.’

  Back at the shack everyone mingled in quiet chatter. Some people had gone home to change after the paddle out, while some had just stripped off their wetsuits on the sand and thrown on some warm clothes.

  Laura had gone back to the holiday house, unsure if she could face any more sadness, but Aiden had followed her and begged her to come back. She’d changed quickly and they’d walked back down the beach hand in hand.

  A bonfire was alight between the shack and the jetty, and the lanterns dotted soft pools of yellow light across the sand.

  Ian was handing out cans of drink. Virginia and Trish were passing around plates of finger food that just seemed to keep on coming.

  Some people sat on the deck, talking quietly with Yvonne, others sat around the bonfire where Ryan played muted tunes on a guitar. Laura sat herself down next to Charlotte and Aiden climbed into her lap.

  ‘He’s taken it hard,’ Charlotte whispered, looking at her son nestled against Laura.

  ‘Hasn’t everyone?’ Laura reached out and held her hand. ‘For what it’s worth, he knew how much you loved him.’ Laura knew how comforting those words could be.

  ‘It’s worth everything.’

  Soft conversation drifted on the night air as they talked of their friend, their brother, their light.

  Laura looked around for Virginia but couldn’t see her. She lifted Aiden, who’d fallen asleep, and handed him to Charlotte. She picked her way past small pockets of people, exchanging those looks of sympathy people shared when they didn’t know what else to say.

  At the back of the shack Virginia sat in the armchair, a patchwork blanket pulled tightly around her.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Laura bent down next to her, placing her hand on the arm of the chair.

  ‘No. Thank you. It’s funny, you know. You get to my age and death is not a stranger. But it’s never easy. Especially when he takes those you love too soon.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Virginia. I can’t image your pain.’

  ‘We are all hurting, my dear.’ She patted Laura’s hand. ‘There is one thing you can do for me.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Meet me here tomorrow morning.’

  Laura agreed. If it helped Virginia in any way, then of course she would.

  One by one friends started heading home, embracing Virginia as they left, kissing Charlotte.

  Ian and Trish sandwiched Laura in a bear hug and said goodnight, before taking Yvonne back to the hospital as promised.

  Laura trudged back up the beach to the holiday house.

  Alone.

  In all her life this was the most alone she’d ever felt.

  The sun shone brightly the next morning, cruel in its happy continuation, taunting Laura with the promise of a warm day, while refusing to deliver. She pulled on her coat and kept her word, meeting Virginia at the shack.

  ‘Ryan has let us borrow his car. Would you mind driving?’ Virginia threw her the keys.

  They pulled up at the end of the gravel road that led to the old cheese factory. Reminders of the storm were scattered across the headland – fallen trees and branches, parts of the old roof.

  Virginia held on to Laura’s arm as they walked towards the site of Heath’s dream.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Laura asked, her stomach tightening.

  ‘Seems fitting.’ Virginia stepped carefully over the debris strewn across the ground. ‘I know what it meant to Heath, and this is where it all ended.’

  ‘Where what ended?’

  An old beam lay across the doorway to the factory and Virginia groaned as she lowered herself down. Laura sat beside her.

  ‘My life,’ Virginia said. ‘Where one part of it ended and another began, to be more accurate. You deserve to kno
w what happened all those years ago.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve been doing some soul-searching these past few days – Yvonne’s accident, Heath. Life is so unpredictable. So fragile. You have a right to know what I did to your family.’

  ‘What you did to my family?’ Laura stared at her. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment she’d been wanting since before she’d arrived.

  Was she ready? Did it even matter now? Yvonne, Heath – what did any of it matter anymore?

  From inside her overall pocket, Virginia pulled out a broken angel wing and handed it to her.

  Laura gasped and her doubts melted away. Yes. She needed the truth.

  ‘I saw the other half around your neck. You have a right to know what it is, what it means, how it got broken.’

  Laura reached beneath her shirt and unhooked the half-pendant from around her neck, laying the two pieces side by side on the bench. She raised her gaze to meet Virginia’s. ‘My governess, Mrs Duncan, had it.’

  ‘She was there the night it happened.’ Virginia nodded. ‘You are very much like your grandmother, you know. When I look at you, I see Lily’s eyes, her face. It’s uncanny.’ She let out a long breath. ‘Are you ready to hear the truth? It won’t be an easy burden to bear.’

  Yes. Of course. It was what she’d come here for, after all. No. Wait. Whatever this was, it couldn’t possibly be good. A secret kept so long, shrouded in mystery, couldn’t be.

  Would the truth hurt her? Possibly. She breathed deeply. Her heart was so heavy now, she figured it couldn’t possibly hurt any more. And maybe, just maybe, even if it was really bad, finding out the truth would give some meaning to this whole tragic situation.

  ‘I want to know.’ She looked Virginia in the eye.

  Laura listened to every word Virginia wove together. Not as a journalist, her story finally coming into focus. But as a granddaughter, a friend. As family.

  Virginia’s voice was steady as she recalled when she’d first met Lily, and Laura was transported in time. Year after year, the story unfolded, Virginia remembering events with vivid clarity.

  Tears ran down her cheeks as Virginia detailed the night on the beach that Richard died.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. It was me. I killed your grandfather.’