Toby brought a tray with four cups in. I bowed to him.
‘Why thank you, Toby,’ Aunt Jean said, graciously.
‘That’s all right,’ he mumbled, not looking at me.
Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne talked about the farm, the weather and politics. Toby occasionally would say something. I was happy to just sit and listen. Aunt Jean and Wayne agreed on most things. I had expected him to be a bit of a redneck, like most of the men I’d known in the country. I looked at him and thought maybe I could get used to him in time.
Uncle Wayne was staying in a hotel on the Parade.
‘Hope you’re better tomorrow,’ Uncle Waynesaid to me, as he got up to leave. ‘I hear you’re a great surfer.’
I blushed. ‘I don’t know about great.’
‘Your brother thinks so.’
‘Thanks.’ The heat from blushing was making me spin.
Aunt Jean walked Wayne out to the front door.
‘Wonder what they’re talking about?’ I said to Toby.
He looked guilty and turned away from my gaze.
‘What Toby?’
‘I dunno.’
‘Toby, no secrets, remember?’
‘I don’t know. They might be talking about me.’
‘What about you?’
‘I don’t want to come back here to live.’
‘Toby.’
‘I don’t.’
I knew he was unhappy, but I thought he’d just go back to the farm for the holidays and then come back and go to school.
‘What about me?’
‘You’re all right. You’ve adapted. I hate it, you know that.’
‘There are things you like. What about skate-boarding?’
‘I’m building my own ramp, sorta.’
‘I need time to think about this Toby. I’m too wiped out now.’
‘I’m doing it Jules. There’s nothing you can say that’ll stop me.’
I didn’t respond. Aunt Jean came back in the room.
‘Did Uncle Wayne say anything to you about Toby not coming back here?’ I demanded.
‘Yes, he did.’ Aunt Jean looked at Toby. ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’
Toby nodded.
‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’m off to bed. I think you ought to go back to bed now Julie,’ Aunt Jean said diplomatically.
I didn’t argue. I stood up. ‘Goodnight,’ I said to them both and went and brushed my teeth. The mirror reflected a pale girl. The eyes were too shiny. The lips cracked. ‘Who’s that girl?’ I asked the mirror and turned away.
My bed felt like a little life boat on a rocking sea. I was clinging on while waves of emotion crashed over me. More changes. I had friends, but why was Toby going to leave me? Would he become a stranger? Who would I talk to about Dad, like I did with Toby? I saw loneliness in front of me as I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 11
Saturday
I could tell by the light through the gap in the curtains that the sun had already been up for hours. I looked at my clock. It was nine o’clock. I hadn’t woken up this late since I could remember. Not since I’d started surfing that’s for sure. It suddenly dawned on me. I wasn’t allowed to go surfing today.
I rolled out of bed and went to my window. I slowly opened the curtains. The light was fine. I didn’t react to it, like yesterday. I’m better I thought.
I wobbled my way to the kitchen. Aunt Jean was sitting at the bench.
‘Morning, Julie. Do you feel well enough to be up?’
‘So far so good.’
‘Toby’s still in bed. How are you feeling?’
‘Better. I’m hungry.’
‘That’s a good sign. Sit down. I’ll get you some breakfast.’
‘I can get it. I’m not that weak.’
‘No, no, it’d be better if you take it easy. Enjoy the service while you can,’ Aunt Jean laughed and went to the cupboard for a bowl.
‘Has Kate rung?’
‘Yesterday. I told her you wouldn’t be surfing for a couple of days.’
‘I feel heaps better.’
‘Julie.’
‘I know, I know,’ I said impatiently.
‘I told your friends you wouldn’t be able to go to the rave, either.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘I thought you wanted to go?’
‘Not really. I’m not into all that techno hoompf hoompf.’
‘Well today you better just stay at home. I think the roof is about your limit.’
‘I feel really embarrassed.’ I swallowed hard. Some muesli caught in my throat and I started coughing.
‘Are you all right?’ Aunt Jean came over and started rubbing my back.
I started breathing properly.
‘What are you embarrassed about?’ Aunt Jean asked softly.
‘The whole spin-out thing. It’s so embarrassing.’
‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You became ill, that’s all.’
‘But you know it’s sort of weird it’s never happened before.’
‘Let’s hope it was a one-off.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
‘We’ll see what the CAT scan says on Monday. Funny isn’t it. Neither of us has been ill, since you came here to live and then at the same time, both of us have to deal with doctors and tests.’
‘Have you heard about your tests?’ I asked.
‘I’ll get the results some time next week. It’s going to be another hot day, I think.’
‘If it gets really hot, can I go for a swim?’
‘I don’t think so Julie. I’m sorry. It’s just better to be safe than sorry.’
‘What am I going to do?’
‘Toby’s here.’
‘He’ll want to go for a swim.’
‘We’ll see. You just can’t exert yourself too much. You said yourself you don’t want a relapse.’
‘Let’s not go on about it.’ I was over it. I’d just have to be patient. ‘What are you doing today?’
‘I’m going into work for a couple of hours.’
‘Aunt Jean, it’s Saturday. You know, your day off.’
‘I’m way behind. I just need a few hours without the telephone ringing to catch up.’
‘It’s your life.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, they go on and on about how people work too much. You know, they don’t have lives because all they do is work.’
‘Julie, I don’t do this regularly.’
‘You bring work home most days.’
‘It’s a very demanding profession. There’s so much preparation that often you don’t complete during the day, when you’re already busy. It’s the nature of the beast, I’m afraid.’
‘See. Everyone has a reason why they work too much.’
‘Unfortunately I have no choice, or else there wouldn’t be food on the table.’
‘I’ll find a job.’
‘What kind of job?’
‘You know. Waitressing, or something.’
‘You’re too young, and anyway you’ll have plenty to do when your last year of school commences.’
‘If I earned money, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.’
‘Julie, don’t worry about that. I know some students work and go to school, but I think that’s pretty hard. If you don’t have to, then I don’t think you need to.’
‘I suppose it will be cheaper without Toby eating everything.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be happier for not having to yell at him for eating all the bananas, or drinking all the milk and putting the empty carton back in the fridge.’
‘I reckon. I’ll miss having him to fight with though.’
‘Julie.’
‘I will. You’re not much good to fight with, to be honest Aunt Jean,’ I laughed.
‘I hope you can get through the weekend without feeling the need to fight with Toby.’
‘I think we’ll manage.’
Toby didn’t emerge from his r
oom until eleven-thirty. I’d been tempted a few times to wake him. Aunt Jean had gone into her office hours ago. I didn’t disturb him, because I was fully aware of the consequences of waking a sleeping tiger snake.
Finally, Toby emerged. I was sitting on the balcony reading a surf magazine.
‘What a great sleep.’ Toby stretched.
‘It was long enough. It’s nearly twelve o’clock.’
‘So?’
‘I just thought you’d start the days earlier now you’re a farm boy again.’
‘I usually do. I reckon I’m tired from the long drive and the lack of oxygen in this place.’
‘You’re getting muscles on your muscles.’
Toby flexed his arms. ‘It’s the work.’ He patted his stomach and inflated his chest. ‘What do you think of my six-pack, eh?’
‘Impressive.’
‘Are you going for a swim?’
‘I’m not allowed.’
‘Oh yeah, the mengie thing, I forgot.’
‘I wish I could.’
‘Look at the beach. How many bloody people do you think are on it?’
‘Thousands.’
‘See that speck of sand over there?’ Toby pointed towards the beach. ‘That’s mine. Keep your eye on it.’
I laughed. ‘If you got up early, you could have had much more beach to yourself.’
‘How’s the surfing going?’
‘Great. I love it more than ever. I hope I can show you some new moves I’ve learnt.’
‘It’s a real bummer you can’t come.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘Where’s Aunt Jean?’
‘Work. Can you believe it?’
‘Bloody workaholic. I’m getting some breakfast.’ Toby went inside.
I sat staring at the beach. There wasn’t much of a swell, but enough for there to be action for some surfers. I wondered what it would look like, if all the people who were on the sand went into the water at the same time. I tried to envisage it. The beach empty except for all the towels and paraphernalia of the crowd.
‘I’m going for a swim,’ Toby said from the lounge room.
I thought of Dad’s letter. I wondered if we ought to read it today.
‘Toby?’
‘What?’
‘What about the letter? When do you want to read it?’
Silence. I waited.
‘I’ll think about it after my swim.’
‘All right. It’s just Aunt Jean’s out, and it might be our only chance this weekend.’
‘When I get back, okay.’
I watched Toby walk down the street, carrying his boogie board. I saw him reach the spot he’d picked out from the balcony. I laughed. He waved. I waved back.
I was absorbed reading about Bali surfers when I heard the front door close.
‘That was great,’ Toby said, drying his hair.
‘I saw you got your spot.’
‘Did you see me wave?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, did you see me?’
‘Only just. I’m starving.’
‘You only had breakfast an hour ago.’
‘I reckon the sea air makes me hungry. I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?’
‘I couldn’t waste this opportunity. I’ll have tomato, cheese, onion, lettuce and mayonnaise.’
‘Is there any meat?’
‘Probably. Look in the fridge.’
Toby brought out the sandwiches and a pot of tea.
‘You’re becoming quite civilised, aren’t you?’
‘I even do my own washing.’
‘Toby, that’s great.’
‘You think so. It sucks.’
‘Who do you expect to do your washing?’
‘You. I’m thinking about posting it to you every week,’ Toby laughed.
‘In your dreams.’
We ate in silence, watching the antics on the beach. The surf patrol boat hovered around Ben Buckler. The wind was picking up and the swell was becoming higher and more regular. There were more people surfing. I wondered if Kate would go surfing by herself. I was surprised my friends hadn’t rung to check if I was all right. Maybe they were embarrassed about my spin-out. Weren’t they curious to know if I was alive? Did they care? I felt a pang of loneliness.
‘Where’s the letter?’ Toby enquired, quietly.
‘In my top drawer. Are you sure you want to do this now?’
‘Not really, but like you said, Aunt Jean’s out. It might be our only chance.’
I didn’t want to think of the underlying message that Toby was going after the weekend.
‘I’ve been in this dilemma for months. Will I, won’t I? I guess it’s scary, you know. I mean Dad wrote it to us when he was in hospital.’
‘I know.’
‘Maybe we need more time to think about it.’
‘You’ve been thinking about it for months.’
‘I just want us to be sure that’s all. It’ll probably upset us. I guess that’s why I keep delaying it. It might wreck our lives, even more.’
‘That’s true.’ Toby looked thoughtful. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to read it now.’
‘Toby.’
‘It’ll only be crap. You might spin out again.’
‘God no, let’s not read it. Maybe I’ll destroy it, once and for all.’
‘Dunno about going that far, we might regret it, later.’
‘I suppose you’re right. Toby, do you ever think of revenge?’
‘You mean kill Dad?’
‘No. Don’t be stupid. That makes you the same as him.’
‘I’m never going to be the same as him.’
‘I know you’re not, but do you think of revenge?’ I persisted.
‘You bet. Sometimes when I’m out fixing a fence or something, I imagine when I’m driving in a nail that it’s Dad.’
‘Wow.’
‘Do you do that?’
‘Not really. I put him on trial for murdering Jesse, because no one is ever going to make him pay for that.’
‘What do you do to him?’ Toby asked.
‘Nothing much. He goes to jail, that’s all. I don’t imagine any more than that. I try not to think about him. Sometimes he just comes into my head for no reason.’
‘That happens to me. I’ll be drenching a sheep and sometimes it’s like the sheep’s eyes become Dad’s.’
‘Weird.’
‘Do you think I’m crazy?’
‘It’s mad thoughts because of crazy things. You’re no crazier than me.’
‘Help! Oh no,’ Toby grabbed his head.
‘What’s wrong? Are you all right? Toby, don’t spin out on me.’
‘As crazy as you. As crazy as a girl,’ Toby shrieked and pretended he was going to throw himself off the balcony.
‘Toby shut up. I take it back, you’re a nut.’
‘Takes one to know one.’
‘I’ll ring Aunt Jean and see how long she’ll be out. If we’re going to read it, I want to do it round the rocks. Not here.’
‘Round Ben Buckler somewhere?’
‘Yeah, at our grotto.’
‘Cool.’
I picked up the phone and dialled Aunt Jean’s office.
‘Aunt Jean must have left. There was no answer.’
As I finished saying it, Aunt Jean called from the hallway.
‘Out here on the balcony,’ I answered.
Toby and I looked at each other. ‘I’ll ask,’ I whispered.
CHAPTER 12
Saturday Evening
Uncle Wayne invited us all out for dinner. Aunt Jean asked me if I felt well enough to go. I had no hint of a headache. The light seemed normal, but I felt a little light headed and spaced out. At least I didn’t feel nauseous anymore.
‘It’s only for dinner. I’ll be fine. It will be cool to go out.’ I knew it would help my recuperation to get out from these four walls and my closed-in thoughts.
‘Any time
you feel unwell, you’ll tell me, won’t you?’
‘Believe you me, you’ll know. I’ll have a shower and get ready.’ I felt steady on my feet for the first time.
We were meeting Uncle Wayne outside the restaurant. Normally it would have been hard to get a booking for a Saturday evening. Aunt Jean had known the owner most of her life so it was no problem for them to find a table for us when Aunt Jean had rung to make the reservation.
The three of us walked along the promenade. It was busy around the pavilion. All kinds of people sat on the grass, picnics spread out in front of many of them. The night was balmy and there was a slight cooling sea breeze. Some people were still in the water. The last of the daylight was disappearing fast in the west. Streetlights emitted halos of glimmering light. Hundreds of insects flew around and around the glow, as if caught in a vortex. In the car park, several surfers hung around the back of a panel van, sharing cans of beer.
I hadn’t rung Kate or Phoebe and Jasmine. I wished I’d told Kate the truth about my family. It would have been so much simpler. I’d once heard that to be a good liar, you had to have a good memory. I think it was a politician who said it. I hadn’t been asked to elaborate on the car accident, yet. I knew at some time questions would come. They always did. So far it was a simple lie I was used to telling. I couldn’t be tripped up with some inconsistency. The thought of embellishing the lie, or admitting it was one, bothered me endlessly. Was it very wrong to lie in the first place? How do you answer your own questions, satisfactorily?
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ Aunt Jean said.
‘What? Right, yeah.’
I hoped Aunt Jean couldn’t read my mind, like she sometimes did.
We walked up the path to the top of the slight hill. Traffic was constant. Not everyone had their headlights on and I nearly stepped out in front of a four-wheel drive I hadn’t seen. Toby grabbed my arm.
‘Turn your lights on,’ I shouted, waving my fist.
We eventually made it across the road safely. The cafés along the Parade were doing a roaring trade. Some people hung around, chatting in their bathers. Others were dressed up for a night out. I pretended I was on a film set with all the extras waiting for their scenes, and I had the lead role.
The restaurant was crowded and noisy. We made our way through the throng, to our table. Aunt Jean became entangled in a big bosomy embrace.
‘Jean. Your family. Benissimo.’ Carla, the owner, beamed at us.
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