I climbed up onto a small outcrop of rocks noticing the wide crescent-shape of the beach. In the distance I could see the three Kings the township was named after. A dozen surfers were still out on the waves, tiny black blobs bobbing about as they waited for the best break. Bathers enjoying their last swim of the day were splashing and shrieking and lifesavers patrolled the beach, gesturing to those in the water to swim between the flags.
A gentle breeze picked up, blowing thick air into my face; I could taste the salt in it, so different to the frail, thin air I was used to. A burst of movement to my left caught my attention as a lifesaver dashed into the water, diving and striking out confidently towards a swimmer in trouble as he flailed in the water. I stood, hand to mouth, holding my breath as his rescuer reached him and ducked beneath the water, pulling him to the surface and then towing him back to shore in the crook of his arm with a powerful stroke, working with the sea as it propelled him back to the beach.
Following others I ran down to the water’s edge, stopping some distance away as I watched the lifesaver commence CPR. His teammates helped with quiet efficiency, fetching various medical supplies and equipment, holding the pale, lifeless form in position. Along with the rest of the gathered spectators, I stood tense and absorbed in the moment. As an ambulance siren sounded in the distance, the man on the beach began to cough and splutter. A cumulative sigh of relief rivalled the sound of the waves as the lifesaver stood up and let others take over. Someone handed him a bottle of water and as he twisted the cap off he noticed me.
My heart stopped and then started pounding so hard it felt like my ribs might snap. His eyes belonged to the deepest parts of the ocean, where emerald swirled with sapphire and alluring golden treasure lay half-hidden in the depths. His hair, still wet from the sea, was deep mocha with gold-plating and curled haphazardly. He was tall and broad-shouldered and tanned with just the right amount of muscle. He was beautiful.
Something new and molten came alive inside me. Burning with such intensity that I felt instantly parched. Instinctively I licked my lips. His gaze dropped to my mouth and I flushed, breaking his gaze and marching rigidly back to my spot on the rocks.
Afraid to even peek in his direction lest I further embarrass myself, I was relieved when I glanced up to see George emerging from the water and heading up the beach. Involuntarily I looked to the side. He was standing quite still gazing in my direction, the medical fuss and commotion continuing around him. I didn’t realise it at the time, but in a small community like Three Kings, newcomers were noticed.
I looked away swiftly. ‘How was the water?’ I asked, throwing George his towel. ‘Did you see the drama?’
‘I did.’ He hopped around on one foot as he dried himself. ‘Did you notice what a strong swimmer that lifesaver was? The conditions out there are pretty rough today, such a powerful current, you have to fight it constantly.’
We headed home, the low, rapidly sinking sun still blinding, both more relaxed but wondering what awaited us. The door swung open to eerie stillness. There were no cooking sounds or smells, no arguing.
‘Maybe they’ve gone to get take-away,’ George stated hopefully, dropping his wet towel onto the sofa. But as we neared my parents’ bedroom muted sounds emerged. Mum was crying. We’d heard it before, just somewhere else. George signalled to me and retreated to his room. I took a breath and knocked on the door quietly.
‘Mum, are you okay?’
‘I’m so sorry to do this to you kids,’ she choked, wiping red, puffy eyes and swallowing another sob. ‘I know it’s not easy for you, and at your age, Deb, you need to feel safe and secure. I’m failing you, your brother ...’
‘That’s okay Mum,’ I said, hugging her as we sat together on the edge of her bed. Her face was hot and wet against my cheek. Her arms felt sinewy and I wondered when she had got so thin, why I hadn’t noticed sooner. ‘We’re not kids anymore. You and Dad both try hard, we know that.’
‘He’s gone.’ Her voice was flat, dead, old.
‘Where?’ I asked, without as much curiosity as you might expect. He had left before but he always returned. This time was different though. She was different, defeated. It was over. The final battle had been fought and she had surrendered.
‘He’s gone to that, that …’ She was unable to continue for a moment, but then she gathered herself. Her voice was subdued.
‘I don’t think he’s coming back this time. It’s different. He wants a divorce. There’s someone else.’ She sat up straight and looked at me, her expression pleading for understanding.
I shook my head. ‘We’ve just moved here!’ Today. We had just arrived. It didn’t seem possible, not now, not after all of this. Surely he wouldn’t have done something so cruel.
‘How many times has he done this Mum? He’ll come back, just like always!’ Words of reassurance, hollow, even to my ears.
She touched my cheek gently. ‘Oh Deb, I’ve known about this for a while. I’m just a coward.’
‘Nonsense, Mum.’
‘I just didn’t want to acknowledge the inevitable … what it would mean.’ She sighed deeply, her hands scrunched in a ball in her lap. ‘It’s probably why things have been a bit more pleasant recently, until today anyway. We stopped trying … we stopped arguing as much, there was no passion left. We were just treading water.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mum.’ I leaned forward like a safety net, arms outstretched in case she fell. For a moment she remained stiff before slumping against me.
‘They met through work. He’s been seeing her each time he’s come out here. She only lives around the corner!’ Her shoulders collapsed, but she raised her head, which I took as a positive sign.
‘You’re joking!’ My head continued to swivel side to side long after it should have stopped.
‘I don’t know what he thought was going to happen when we moved here.’
‘He could have let you know before we came,’ I said, stroking her hair and noticing how the grey she usually coloured had crept between the fine light brown strands which fell to her shoulders.
‘It’s too late to go back now,’ she continued, her normally gentle face, blotchy and tear-streaked. ‘The old house is gone, my job ...’ She sighed like a ten-ton lorry had parked itself on her shoulders, and it had, I guess. ‘We’ll have to get on here somehow.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, feeling completely useless and secretly labelling my father a coward and then wanting to shout it, but biting my tongue. It would help no-one. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ The words stuck like fish bones in my throat before they spluttered out. I wanted to punch him about the head, but what else could I say.
Why on earth had he chosen to bring us to this place? It was beautiful, yes, but small. Too small to have a mistress and a wife and kids a street over. We could have rented somewhere near his work, saved him an hour’s travel to and fro. I’m sure he could have continued to invent excuses which would have allowed him some time away. The great charade could have played out for a while longer. Or maybe today he’d finally just had enough.
He had been the whole reason why we’d come. Obviously we hadn’t been opposed to the beach and the sun, but the location - this beautiful, tiny, hard-to-find place where newcomers were so noticed - had been his choosing. He’d requested a transfer, travelling backwards and forwards, spending only a night or two at home a week until we were ready to move. Allegedly he had been hard at work building up his portfolio (he was a real estate agent) and networking, but the extended absences made sense now. Things had been better with him away. Better for him too obviously.
I assume, because he never discussed it with us, that he had decided there was nothing left to salvage in his relationship with my mother. It had been bad for so long that in many ways George and I felt a sense of relief at their separation. Mum’s life would improve. If we could just help her through the pain of betrayal, hopefully she would realise that there was more than unhappiness waiting on the other side.
I
don’t know where my father stayed that night, although I can guess, but he never returned to the family home to live. A few days later he appeared, his face drawn, self-consciously filling a couple of suitcases before making a hurried exit. Explanations were left to my mother who tried to be fair to him. In the early days of their separation I don’t think he knew what to say to us.
He moved in with ‘Dotty Dorothy’ as we called her, a plump homely woman who always looked rumpled. We saw him occasionally, but the atmosphere between us was tense and uncomfortable, filled with simmering resentment on our side and too many unanswered questions. He threw himself into frenetic industry, building things in his shed, mowing the lawn and pruning trees, anything to avoid spending time with us, while Dotty made milky tea and floppy sponge cake. His skin became tanned and leathery from so much time outside and he grew thin. But I don’t remember ever hearing a cross word shared between Dotty and my father. It must have been a relief for him after his fiery relationship with my mother.
My father was hopelessly irregular with his maintenance payments and in the initial months after their separation I regularly heard my mother pleading with him on the phone. To her credit, she realised that begging for money was demeaning and ineffective and managed to find a job as a bookkeeper in our tiny town.
5
KATE
NE International Aeronautical Services was owned and operated by Nicholas Edwards, a pilot who had started his flying career in the early nineties operating a range of aircraft. He had licences from around the world, both agricultural and commercial. Founded in Western Australia in the mid-nineties, the company had rapidly expanded to service the whole state as well as fulfilling a multitude of functions across the country and overseas. In fifteen years he had accumulated a total of twenty planes suited to various purposes.
I closed my laptop as the phone rang hollowly on the other side of the country.
Finally a woman answered with detached efficiency. ‘NE International Aeronautical Services, good morning,’
‘Nicholas Edwards please.’ I tried for casual, but fell somewhat short, my voice tight like Sam was throttling me instead of sitting on my shoulder as usual.
‘Not in the office today, can I take a message?’
‘Oh,’ I said, relief washing over me like water in a warm bath.
‘Would you like to leave a message?’ She prompted.
‘Uh … it’s personal,’ I stuttered. I hadn’t thought about leaving a message, but was suddenly certain that I wouldn’t want him calling me up unexpectedly.
‘I can give you his mobile number,’ she said, as a phone started ringing in the background.
‘Err, yes – thanks,’ I replied, surprised that it was provided so easily and then remembering that I might have seen it on the website.
‘One moment, please.’ She placed me on hold to answer the other call.
I flipped open the lid of my laptop, the page was still up. There it was.
‘Still there?’ she said returning.
‘Yep,’ I answered, confirming that the number she gave me was the same as the one on the website.
‘Thank you.’
‘Have a nice day,’ she ended.
You can answer a mobile anywhere, in the middle of a board meeting, in the bathroom. There are no limits to how far some people will go to remain accessible.
What would I say to him? How would I say it? I called before I could chicken out. A confident, deep male voice answered abruptly.
‘Nick.’
‘Um hi, just checking …’ I felt like an idiot, where to now? ‘Are you able to talk right now? I’m not on a speaker am I?’ I babbled, imagining how inappropriate it would be for his family to find out about me over speakerphone.
‘Nope.’ He said the word slowly, my floundering disconcerting him.
‘It’s just it’s a personal call so ...’
‘What’s going on? Who is this?’ He was suddenly terse, someone who received a lot of irritating calls, waiting to be suckered into some sort of sale.
I took a breath. ‘My name is Kate. I’m not quite sure how to put this without it being a shock. You’re not driving are you, or flying a plane or doing anything dangerous?’
‘No. What’s this about?’ More irritation, impatience. He was a busy man and becoming annoyed.
‘It’s about something that happened a long time ago,’ I added quickly, fearing he might hang up. ‘Do you remember Deb Brayshaw?’
I thought the phone had dropped out, the silence was so complete, but eventually he answered.
‘Yes … of course, a long time ago.’
‘Three Kings,’ I prompted.
‘Three Kings …’ he repeated, suddenly contemplative.
The silence was full this time as he sorted through his thoughts. ‘… Deb. It’s been so long since I last saw her. She left. Is this about her?’
‘Sort of I guess. It’s about me really, but I’m linked to her.’
I squirmed. How to say what I had to say? Again the silence stretched on, seconds like minutes, and I panicked, my heartbeat suddenly irregular, my hands sweaty. He waited, interested now. No impatience, just a void on the other end of the mobile.
‘I know it’s a lot to confront you with over the phone, but I’m not sure how else to go about it, so sorry in advance,’ I finally gushed, eager to get it over with now. ‘When Deb left all those years ago it was because she was pregnant … with me. She didn’t tell you at the time … I guess she had her reasons.’ I took a deep breath, wishing I could tell what he was thinking. ‘She placed me for adoption, but she put her details and yours on my original birth record. Maybe so that I could find you one day … I don’t know.’ I felt breathless. Too many words tumbling out, too fast, but they were out now, whatever the outcome.
Nothing.
‘Nick?’
After a moment he replied quietly, deliberately, like he had to reassure himself. ‘I’m here.’
‘It’s too much, I know. Bombarding you with this ... like this.’ What other way was there? I didn’t have a clue. What conclusions was he jumping to? I wasn’t out to make a claim on his hard-earned empire, but he didn’t know that.
‘You can call me back, my mobile number will be on your phone,’ I said gently, adding, ‘if you like.’
He was exhaling audibly, and I imagined his furrowed brow. ‘Take some time, Nick. I’m not looking for a dad.’ It was too late for that, wasn’t it? ‘I just wanted to find out about my background.’
He cut in unexpectedly, ‘I’ll take you up on that Kate and get back to you.’ His voice was unreadable, almost professional, and distant. Maybe he was going to consult a lawyer first.
‘Okay,’ I agreed, realising that he was probably well practised at projecting a veneer when the occasion demanded it. I guess we all were and he was no different. Who wanted to bare their underbelly when they weren’t yet sure whether it was a razor blade or a gentle pat that would come down on it?
‘Just give me a little time to get my head around this,’ he said, ‘and I’ll get back to you.’
This time the silence was because he’d terminated the call. I fell back onto the bed. I felt relieved. I’d pushed through my anxiety and made contact with him. But I also felt sad, like I had a sob stuck somewhere inside me and couldn’t release it. His reaction had been different to Deb’s. In fairness to him my message was a little bewildering, like he’d woken up someplace and was wondering how he’d got there. Only instead of a pretty blonde in the bed next to him, he discovered an eighteen year old daughter he’d never met, hopefully not in the bed but standing beside it. That had to be pretty freaky, enough to cause him to leap out of bed hoping he had jocks and socks on. The shock would take a while to wear off and when it did he’d either call me or his lawyer would send me a neat letter requiring signatures and witnesses. Maybe I’d get a down payment on a car, but I’d never hear from him again.
A week later, just as I was beginning to think the
lawyer was the more likely scenario, he called. I’d almost given up, accepting that it was too confronting for him. Maybe he didn’t believe it was true, or he had convinced himself of that. It would be easy enough to do. I was a stranger. He had not seen me born and he had not watched me grow from a child into a woman. He hadn’t been there when I had fallen off my bike, or suffered through chickenpox. We hadn’t laughed together and we hadn’t cried together. We had never fought. We were two alien beings brought together by biology.
I wasn’t the first to be rebuffed. Plenty of others had experienced unsuccessful meetings with their biological parents or been rejected. Deb was lovely and I was grateful that we had connected so easily. From what she had told me about Nick and his family, I knew it would be a different experience where he was concerned. Still, I couldn’t completely escape the rejection which gnawed unpleasantly in my gut, awakening old insecurities and forcing them to surface. My sleep had taken a weird turn reflecting my subconscious state in vivid, unpleasant dreams and Noodle was on constant alert mode, yapping and running in circles when I got out of bed at night, even if it was only for a trip to the loo. She instantly relaxed when I shooshed her. If I spoke then I wasn’t the crazy girl she knew from my night terrors and that was okay.
My mobile rang as I combed my hair after a morning shower, the thick tangles unmanageable as always.
‘You’re not doing anything inappropriate are you?’ Nick mimicked as I answered, referring to the awkwardness at the start of our last conversation, teasing me.
I dropped the comb and did a sharp inhale and exhale before gathering myself enough to answer. ‘Just flushing the chain now,’ I said, surprised at my ability to joke in return and then embarrassed as my brain caught up and started doing cartwheels over the casualness of our interaction. We shared a brief, slightly strained laugh which ended too abruptly.
Awakening: Book 1 The Last Anakim Trilogy Page 4