Ora's Gold

by Charlotte Young

  ‘What?’ I am stunned. Dione holds up her hand. There’s more.

  ‘Dione Oakton assisted women to birth outside of the Safety for the Future Program. According to reliable sources, she operated an underground birthing centre at the back of her property and may have also attended homebirths. If caught and charged, Ms Oakton will face a life sentence in prison.

  ‘Douglas James commented, “I can’t believe that woman dragged my daughter into this. Ora would only have gone along with it because she didn’t think she had a choice.” Mr James then broke down, pleading with members of the public to come forward with information about his only surviving daughter. Tragically, Mr James’ wife and older daughter were killed in a house fire over five years ago. Please contact journalist Keith Waterhouse with any relevant information.’

  ‘And then it gives contact details,’ Dione says quietly, folding the paper neatly. She has read steadily all the way through, her voice even, but she looks pale. Who wouldn’t, after reading in black and white that they have a life sentence hanging over their head?

  ‘Let’s just go to New Zealand!’ Jake says. He has such a hunted look in his eyes. ‘Tonight! It’ll only take us a week. We’ve got enough food.’ He stands up and shoves the bags out of the way. ‘Ora can have the baby there! In a proper hospital!’ He jumps down into the cabin. ‘I’m checking the weather reports.’ The VHF radio is his lifeline.

  Dione and I look at each other. I have a lump in my throat. There is no way I’m going to lose her to jail.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘About Dad.’

  ‘It’s okay. He’s got a lot to blame me for.’

  ‘But he didn’t have to—’

  ‘He trusted me to look after you,’ she cuts me off. ‘And look what a fine job I’ve done.’ She points at my belly. ‘And on the run from the SIF!’

  ‘But he—’

  ‘And now you’re missing. He’s got every right to want to see me put away.’ She sounds hollow.

  I get up and give her a hug but my belly gets in the way.

  ‘I’m sorry about before,’ I say.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she says, sounding even further away.

  ‘Maybe Jake’s right,’ I say. ‘Maybe New Zealand is our only option.’

  ‘No!’ She pulls away and looks at me intently. ‘No way are we crossing the Tasman in this little boat. That would be insane. I’m not going to be responsible for you drowning as well.’

  Jake comes back up looking bleak. The weather report is bad—a storm is heading our way. We won’t be sailing anywhere tonight.

  We take the bags down to the cabin. Jake secures the deck and then comes in, closing the hatch. We all huddle together around the table, burying our sorrows in the tasteless government food we’ve grown used to and trying to ignore the ever-growing waves.

  ‘We’re doing okay as we are,’ Dione says. ‘We just need to keep going.’ She sounds so certain. I wonder how she’s really feeling. She’s so hard to read.

  ‘I feel too vulnerable here,’ Jake says. ‘If they find out where we are—and they may already have guessed, seeing as they’ve tracked us to Seaford Station—we won’t be able to get away.’

  ‘But it’ll be the same wherever we hide,’ Dione says.

  ‘Medical condition!’ I scoff. All my old hurts and suspicions about Dad are rearing up again. ‘How ridiculous!’

  ‘Health condition,’ Jake corrects. ‘Your dad said health condition, not medical condition.’

  ‘What’s the bloody difference? I don’t know why he had to say any of it.’ I want them to agree with me; to join forces and rant about Dad. But neither of them is biting. ‘That report is all his fault, you know. Giving them my photo! What was he thinking?’

  ‘That he wants his pregnant daughter to be safe?’ Jake says.

  ‘Oh, Mr Know-it-All!’

  ‘You just don’t get him, that’s all,’ Jake says quietly, not backing down.

  ‘Oh, so now you’re the expert on my dad?’

  ‘Hang on,’ Dione commands, swallowing the last of her chocolate quickly. ‘Fighting isn’t going to help. We need to stay focused, stick together and keep out of the way. They won’t find us if we do that.’

  ‘Those newspaper guys are better detectives than the whole SIF put together,’ says Jake. ‘If they want to find us they will. Do you think Doug rang them out of the blue? Do you think he even knew Ora had gone? No way!

  ‘The bloodsuckers would’ve paid him a visit and scared the hell out of him. Asked him questions about Ora, implying she was in danger again. Then they would have left. Can you imagine his distress? You’re missing! Of course he ended up talking to them. If he was really the bastard you think he is, he’d have told them you were pregnant!’

  Maybe he has a point.

  ‘He doesn’t know Dione is with us,’ Jake continues. ‘For all he knows I might be forcing you to have the baby up a tree!’

  ‘Okay!’ I say. ‘Point taken.’

  We’re all silent again.

  ‘Maybe you should ring him next time you go ashore?’ I suddenly want to make it better for him.

  ‘Could they trace the call from a phone box?’ Dione asks.

  We purposely left our mobiles at home. Tom convinced us that if we had them we’d use them.

  ‘I dunno,’ Jake says. ‘If I had my mobile I could google it,’ he cracks. I don’t smile and neither does Dione.

  ‘What about a postcard?’ I suggest, but they both shake their heads, saying the postmark would give us away.

  ‘He’ll just have to suffer in silence,’ Jake says, but his voice is gentle.

  It’s true, but it bothers me. Thinking about Dad puts me on such a rollercoaster. I don’t know what I feel anymore.

  ‘I’d better not come ashore again,’ Dione says, sounding flat. Jake agrees.

  I realise I’m eating, even though my belly is bursting and the waves are making me feel sick.

  ‘Do you think we should make the supplies last a bit longer?’ I say, looking at the others, who are munching away too. ‘So we don’t have to risk going ashore so often?’ Dione and Jake nod reluctantly and start putting the food away.

  ‘The good thing is, we haven’t used much fuel,’ Jake says, sounding a bit brighter. ‘That’s the hardest thing to restock.’

  When the storm hits, it’s the biggest one yet. I don’t manage to get to the bucket before I vomit.

  34

  Row, row, row your boat

  We start talking about going ashore and holing up in a big hotel, if I could just make it into the room without being seen. The hunt is truly on and it’s making us feel tense and exposed. The ocean no longer feels like the safest place to hide. Jake spotted a helicopter in the distance. It probably wasn’t for us, but we’re spooked.

  We’re not too far from the Gold Coast, which is ironic as this was Jake’s first suggestion of where to hide. Dione thinks we have the cash to cover a room. I try not to think how risky it’ll be; Jake paying cash at a hotel while Dione and I hide out the back.

  We have fake IDs. Tom made them for us.

  This is crazy.

  But we are desperate.

  I start noticing every detail around me. I have to distract myself; a creeping terror is encircling me. I make up names for the different types of waves and become so attuned to the stars and the tides that I start to wonder if I’m related to the tribes who navigate the seas by them.

  I don’t know what to say to Jake and Dione anymore. I try to think of things but I only come up with small talk that dies in my head before the words get out. They seem as lost as me. I am glad for the nights when Jake and I snuggle together, still connected.

  Every time I think of the next trip ashore I feel my ribs knit together in my chest. Soon there’s a knot there all the time, and two and a half weeks later it’s ready to explode. Jake has had to go in for the fifth and last time—we don’t have enough fuel to get us to the Gold Coast, or food. The wind has deserted us for
days, forcing Jake to use the outboard to move us further along the coast.

  I don’t want him to go—why can’t we just risk it?—but he won’t listen. We need more food and he wants to get more gas for the cooker, too. We’re a week away from going back to land forever. The plan is to find a house to rent, and some kind of work.

  Jake sails us towards the coast and puts down anchor when we can just see the shore. All the time I’m pleading with him not to go. We end up having a spat before he leaves, me desperate for him to stay, him determined to go. Two hours later, when Dione and I are in our usual fishing spot on the deck, I am relieved to see him returning.

  ‘Looks like Jake’s back already,’ I say to Dione.

  She looks through the binoculars for ages, then looks at me. ‘That’s not Jake.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She must be wrong.

  She looks again. ‘It’s a wooden rowboat and the guy looks bigger.’

  ‘Shit!’ I say, feeling the panic rise, remembering the chopper from yesterday. The three of us had been below deck, which was a complete stroke of luck—Dione had been doing a check-up on me and Gumnut, and Jake had wanted to be there. We held our breath as it flew over a couple of times, shaking and rattling our insides with its thunderous thrum, filling us with terror. But when it took off and nothing happened we convinced ourselves that luck was on our side.

  We had to. We had nowhere else to go.

  ‘I’m going to have to hide below,’ Dione says, ducking along to the cockpit already.

  ‘Shit!’ I look at my bare belly. I’m wearing my bikini to get a half-hour of morning sun. I follow Dione.

  By the time I reach the cabin Dione is already hidden in my bed with the door shut. I fling on my grey dress and look down. All I see is bump—who am I kidding? My baby is due in a few days’ time. I wish Gumnut was already out, he’d be so much easier to hide.

  I scramble back up to my fishing position, grabbing my sunnies and hat. It seems to take the man ages to get close enough for me to see him clearly; the steady paddle of oars is driving me insane.

  As he draws closer, I recognise the flashy smile. It’s the guy from the car who tried to charm me into talking, the same one who wrote the report. I take a deep breath and think of Dragon; if ever there was a time Gumnut needed protecting, it’s now. Our cover is blown and Mr Big Hair is about to find out I’m pregnant.

  ‘Ora!’ He says my name like we’ve been friends forever. ‘Good to see you!’

  We both know his excitement is more about his success rather than actually seeing me. I pull my knees up in front of my chest and cover my legs with my dress.

  ‘You remember me, don’t you?’ he asks, coming in beside the Artemis and tying his boat to the ladder. ‘I’m from the free media, remember?’ His hands, by now, are on either side of the ladder and he is about to step onto it. I am frozen, unable to speak or act, images of snarling dogs and SIF officers flashing through my system.

  ‘Keith,’ he says, flashing those impossible teeth again. ‘Keith Waterhouse.’

  ‘Stay right there!’ My senses return. ‘Don’t come on the boat!’ I command, struck by his stealth, like a panther moving in on its kill.

  I watch him pause, undecided, and take my chance.

  ‘Dolphins!’ I point. He turns to look behind him. In one movement I stand up, hold the rail and do a kind of forward roll into the sea. Pure adrenaline shoots me overboard. I have to push out hard with my arms so I don’t bang my head. My back takes the impact. The cold water stuns me as I land with a plop.

  My sunnies and hat are lost and the dress pulls me down but I kick up to the surface, adjusting to the cold, and start swimming slow strokes towards him, using my breath to calm me. I am much safer submerged in my ocean.

  Thankfully, the rowboat is low in the water and I’m able to put my arms over the edge so I’m kind of leaning in as my legs paddle out behind me, hiding Gumnut but keeping my rear end afloat.

  ‘I could have sworn it was dolphins,’ I smile.

  Keith Waterhouse is looking at me like I’m bonkers.

  ‘Sorry!’ I say, smiling harder and looking up at the sky, impersonating a ditzy girl. ‘I just …’ I search for the right words, ‘…panicked! I’m not used to company.’ I attempt a coy smile and when he smiles back, warmth runs through me. Maybe I can charm him.

  ‘I thought you were going to swim for shore.’ He chuckles and stands up, coming towards me. ‘Here,’ he holds out his hand. ‘Let me help you.’

  I look at his hand and then at his face and shake my head.

  ‘No offence Keith, but I feel safer here.’ Another shy smile. ‘It’s just … I don’t know you and …’ I trail off, hoping he doesn’t persist.

  Thankfully, he sits back down—too close for comfort, but it’ll do. He nods his head and smiles. ‘You’re a hard girl to find, Ora James.’

  It feels like he’s admiring me. I blush furiously.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I concentrate on my legs, beating a gentle rhythm in the water, rather than my burning cheeks.

  He throws his head back and laughs. ‘Now that’d be telling.’ Another flashy smile, aimed right at me. This guy is so cocky. I bash harder at the sea with my feet.

  ‘If you don’t tell me, I won’t talk to you.’ I know it’s childish, but I can’t think what else to say.

  He watches me and his lips twitch. How dare he find me amusing! He waits, staring at me for too long, drawing out the moment. I glare back.

  ‘Little Tom,’ he says finally.

  ‘Little Tom?’ I say in disbelief. ‘He can barely talk.’

  ‘It was pure chance and some skilful powers of deduction.’ He raises an eyebrow, looking smug. ‘I paid Tom and Sarah a visit. We drank tea on the veranda. They weren’t talking and I’d almost given up, but then one of the horses got kicked and they both took off to check on it.’

  I imagine Little Tom being left on the veranda, looking up with fascination at this smiling man beside him.

  ‘I always carry a few tricks in my pocket,’ Keith says, puffing out his chest. ‘You never know when you might need them.’ Again, that self-satisfied smile. ‘So I pulled out my little matchbox car and the boy’s face lit up. He reached for it and I said he could have it if he told me where Ora and Jake were. He looked at me with his clear blue eyes and said, quite precisely, “Boat!”’ Keith chuckles.

  I squint in the bright sunlight, disbelieving, and yet …

  ‘After that, it was easy. Well, it took a while sifting through the boating license records from years ago but I eventually hit the jackpot and saw that Tom was indeed the owner of a boat, which confirmed the little guy’s tale. Then it was just a question of sighting you. It took a while but, like I said, I have my sources.’

  ‘So what d’you want from me?’ I ask, hoping to get this man away from here as soon possible.

  ‘I need a good story, Ora.’ He sits back and folds his arms, looking dramatic. ‘And this one has the potential to change history. For the better. Anyone with half a brain can see things have gone wrong. For women, and especially for babies. And if they lose, we all lose. And I’ll admit …’ He pauses for effect. ‘I could do with a break. I’ve had a bad run recently.’

  It feels like he’s telling the truth but I still don’t trust him. Keith continues chatting away about the free media being cut-throat and the constant threat of the SIF when they cover edgy stories. Thankfully, he hasn’t asked me into the boat again, and has no idea I’m pregnant. After a minute he stops talking about himself and zooms in on me.

  ‘Why did you run, Ora? I hope we didn’t scare you off? You’re the innocent in all of this. You didn’t want to be involved, did you?’ He looks at me and waits.

  I can’t help myself. The words find their way out. I can feel myself sliding down the slippery slope into Keith’s world of questions and ‘stories’. And I know Jake will be furious, but what choice do I have? I can’t stay in the sea all day—I’m starting to feel the co
ld. And that could be bad for Gumnut. I’ll only tell him about the SIF.

  ‘And then once they captured you, you were held for … how long?’

  ‘Six days,’ I say.

  He shakes his head in disgust. ‘What were they thinking? You’re still a girl!’ I flinch inwardly but maybe I do look young right now, with the sun drying my hair into a frizz.

  He stops shaking his head and looks directly at me, asking gently, ‘Did they torture you?’

  Slug and Worm flash into my mind. I almost answer, but stop myself. Jeez, this man is good. Something about him reminds me of Jake, the way he listens so intently—it’s like he knows what I’ve been through, how insane it all is. I want to tell him everything. Even about the births.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come and sit up here?’ he asks, noticing our positions again.

  Jake must have it wrong. How could someone so caring be as calculating?

  ‘Your lips are looking blue.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Your father’s pretty cut up. He’s really worried about you, Ora.’ He holds out his hand again. ‘I just need you to tell me more about the SIF and your interrogation. And Dione.’

  I’ve stopped kicking my legs and let them be pulled down by my dress. I don’t know what to do or say. I want to speak, but I can’t. Is this man good or bad? Here to help or not? Is he like the SIF? Worse? Or better? Maybe he can help us. What about Gumnut? Jake is going to be so mad with me. I need to think. Everything needs to stop, to slow. I am checking out.

  He is saying something about the SIF again, taking me back there. I don’t want to go back. My arms are so tired. I stop thinking and loosen my grip.

  The water comes into my body. I let my dress pull me down. It’s heavy. Blissfully heavy. Floating down. So quiet underneath the water. No SIF down here. Maybe I can swim under the boat to the ladder?

  A muffled whoosh rocks me and then a hand closes around my wrist, yanking me up.

  I try to pull away, but the grip is too hard. He’s strong. I barely struggle—there’s no point. We both come up coughing—I’ve swallowed a lot of water. He grabs the side of the rowboat, still hurting my wrist.