“I don’t understand,” Nat said weakly. He thought she must be having some sort of breakdown. Or maybe they both belonged to some cult. He remembered what Pete had said about meetings. Could that have been the reason Rick took his life? His parents?
Her husband hadn’t spoken since they sat down. Nat addressed him directly.
“Mr Delaney, did Rick have any problems, ones that could have caused him to…disappear?”
Cade stood and walked to the window. He gazed at the ocean a brief moment.
“We knew he would leave,” he said, and turned back to Nat, “but he left earlier than we expected.”
Sarah was watching Nat. “We were prepared for it, Nathaniel,” she said calmly. “Please don’t concern yourself.”
Nat was trying to understand the implications of what she was saying. Was that a warning?
“Mrs Delaney, did Rick commit suicide?”
She held his gaze. “If you like,” she said, her voice cool and firm as if to end the matter.
If you like. What did that mean?
Nat realised he wouldn’t get any more information from them. He stood to leave and thanked them for seeing him.
Cade Delaney saw him to the door. As they went outside he placed his hand lightly on Nat’s shoulder. “When you find Seb, let us know,” he said, and smiled, slowly tightening his grip until Nat winced, “unless we find him first.” He released his hold, stepped back and closed the door behind him, leaving Nat on the doorstep.
Heart thumping, Nat forced himself to walk calmly down the front steps and through the gate. The cottage was built on a cliff with a view up the coast north to the lighthouse. Once out of sight he ran, taking gulps of the strong familiar air he’d known all his life. The seaspray and the kelp, the chill southerly, the kunzia in flower.
He made his way home along the cliff, sorting out his thoughts.
They don’t believe Rick committed suicide.
They don’t believe it was an accident.
So what do they believe happened?
What did Cade mean, unless we find him first?
If Rick had taken his own life, Nat could understand why they would deny it. But he was certain they knew, or suspected, what had happened on the boat.
How did they know?
Okay. Think again. If Rick didn’t fall overboard accidently, and he didn’t jump to his death, where was he?
He stopped walking.
Did Rick jump, but not to his death? Another boat? Impossible. Not in that weather. Maybe not. The others didn’t see another boat but that didn’t mean much. Visibility was low at the time. Rick could have been picked up, taken somewhere. Rick’s last words, according to Jake, were, I won’t drown, you’re wrong. He knew. He was trying to reassure Seb he wouldn’t die.
Was Rick still alive?
Nat broke into a run. With Seb gone, he needed to find the truth.
Jake was next on his list.
* * *
Dr Kelly rose from his desk and invited Nat’s parents to sit down opposite him.
He spoke formally. “Mr and Mrs D’Angelo, thank you for coming in. I have here a summary of my report on Nathaniel. As you know, I’ve been talking to Nat for more than a month now. This summary is, of course, not a complete report. I cannot release all the information relating to our discussions without his permission, not even to his parents.
“However, Nat feels, as I do, that a brief summary may help you both. It’s only natural in these circumstances for Nat to be troubled and suffering a deep sense of loss and guilt, after such traumatic events. The death of his brother’s friend and his brother’s disappearance have had a profound effect upon him, and I have to say I think it’s going to take him some time to come to terms with what happened. This is completely understandable and to be expected.
“Please, read the summary. Discuss it with Nat. He tells me he has been unapproachable and distant in recent weeks. As I said, these things take time. But from the progress we’ve made, I’m confident he will eventually be able to come to terms with these events and move on.”
Luisa sat with her husband and quickly scanned the document in front of her. She wondered what she was doing here, reading a report that told her nothing. Nat had been as unforthcoming to Dr Kelly as to everyone else. She suspected he had agreed to regular sessions with the counsellor in order to deflect attention from his real agenda. He had told them all only what he wished them to know.
Dr Kelly was talking. “…and, of course, the subject of the hen came up in our discussions but this is a simple case of transference, more than likely temporary as he overcomes his dependence on the bird.”
Paul and Luisa stared at him.
“The hen?” said Luisa.
Dr Kelly adjusted his glasses and looked at his notes. “Amelia,” he said, “I believe her name is Amelia. Nat tells me he’s become close to her. Feelings of isolation and estrangement in young people can often lead to increased dependence on an animal companion, usually a dog or a cat”—he frowned—”or sometimes a rat. I’ve even known of a pet tortoise.” He cleared his throat. “But in Nat’s case, it seems to be his pet hen. Evidently he can talk to her, unburden himself. Not that unusual.”
There was a slight pause. “I understand,” said Luisa. She looked at Paul, knowing they were in agreement. Let’s go.
They rose to leave. Dr Kelly gave them a small smile.
“Thank you for your time, Dr Kelly. I think Nathaniel will be fine now,” Luisa D’Angelo said at the door.
7
Jake watched as Nat approached along the jetty. When he realised the boy had come to talk, he put his tools down and waited. He’d been working on minor repairs to the boat. Insurance had covered the major damage but there was still a lot to be done.
He hadn’t seen Nat for months, not since the day the boat came in. He thought Nat seemed taller and remembered the boy watched birds—Jake had once told him where he could find a sea eagle’s nest and had made him promise to observe it from a distance. Nat had searched it out and brought back photos of the chicks to show him.
Now he was here, on the wharf, and Jake felt uneasy.
Nat stopped and looked at him across the boat.
“Jake. How’s it going?”
“Nat. Getting by. Yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Nat gestured at the repairs Jake had made to the deck. “Free to talk?”
“If it’s anything to do with what’s happened, I’ve got nothing to say. No offence.”
“None taken. I don’t blame you for anything, Jake. You were a friend to Seb when he needed help and I know you’re still his friend. We all know that.”
Jake turned away, avoiding Nat’s steady gaze.
Nat hesitated. “Is there anything else, anything at all, you can remember about that night? I really need to know, Jake. Please.”
He waited, wondering if Jake had even heard him.
Jake was looking out to sea. He said, “Rick’s lifejacket washed up on the beach.” He turned back to Nat. “He wasn’t wearing one.”
Nat let him think about it.
After a few moments Jake said, “Maybe it was something to do with the fish.”
Nat was still. “The fish?”
“Seb said it wasn’t a fish. What else could it be?” Jake fell silent again.
Nat tried to bring him back. “Jake, what do you mean—the fish?”
“It was the storm—we couldn’t do anything. I saw him disappear.”
“Disappear? Who? Rick?”
“He was there, and then he wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened to him. They were struggling, Rick called out. Then Seb was there, alone. Rick wasn’t on the boat, so he must have gone overboard.”
Nat waited, reluctant to cause Jake further distress. He tried to persuade Jake to leave his boat, come home with him, eat and sleep, regain his strength.
Jake wasn’t listening. “I have to get out th
ere,” he said, nodding towards the barway. He turned stiffly and prepared to cast off.
Nat said, “Take it easy. I’ll slip the lines.”
He watched as Jake manoeuvred the boat from its moorings and set course. “Where are you heading?” he called.
Jake didn’t answer, but Nat already knew.
Jake’s body was found two days later, washed onto rocks to the south. The boat was recovered adrift at sea. At his funeral, the town heard that Jake had been unwell for a year. Paul D’Angelo delivered the eulogy, commending Jake for his many years of community work and, in a personal tribute, thanking him on behalf of his family for his friendship and for his guidance to Paul’s sons, Sebastian and Nathaniel.
Nat had known little of Jake’s background, that he’d been alone since the death of his wife and son. He wished that Seb could have been at the funeral.
It turned out Jake had left most of his money to a number of local charities and organisations, including the East Coast Birders Association. He had been a noted birdwatcher of rare and endangered species, whose sightings and fieldnotes had been collated by the Government into a valuable national resource.
Nat hadn’t known that, either.
* * *
The following Saturday Nat was at the market earlier than usual, before the crowd. He went straight to the stall and stopped when he realised Yoshiki wasn’t there.
A girl was behind the counter, sorting the items on display. Nat recognised her immediately. Two years earlier Norika had come to St Annes High as part of a team competing in the National Science Quiz. Her team had beaten Nat’s team by five points. She was a year older than Nat and would have graduated by now, he thought.
She looked up and noticed him.
“Hi, is Yoshiki around?” he said, speaking too fast. “He was here last week.” Slow down.
“Are you Nathaniel?”
She doesn’t remember me. “Nat. He was going to bring something for me.”
“It’s here. My grandfather asked me to give it to you. He couldn’t come today.” She paused. “I’m Norika.”
“I know. We’ve met.”
She didn’t ask where. “Yoshiki said to keep the rock until he can explain it to you.” She reached under the bench and handed him a small, unimpressive grey rock. It was lighter than he expected and fitted neatly in the palm of his hand.
“Is this it?” said Nat, trying to hide his disappointment. “Your grandfather said it had a story.”
Norika shrugged. “He’s had the rock for years. He believes it’s special. You’ll have to ask him about it yourself.”
“Special? How?”
A pause. “He thinks it has some sort of power.”
Nat stared at her. “How can a rock have power? Do you believe that?”
“My grandfather believes it. Maybe you won’t. Talk to him next week.” She turned to serve a customer who was looking at an old brass doorknocker.
At home, his father asked him why he seemed so quiet.
Nat thought for a moment before answering. “Sometimes you think something really important is about to happen, and it just doesn’t.” He was annoyed at himself for believing the rock was special, but he couldn’t help thinking it might still be different—with traces of a rare element, maybe, or an unusual structure.
In his room after dinner he took the rock out of his pocket. It wasn’t quite as boring as it seemed at the market, a sedimentary rock of dull grey strata alternating with thicker layers of a dark grainy material. He turned it over and noticed a series of minute grooves on one face. They looked like natural fissures, but on closer examination he thought it was possible they’d been carved into the surface.
Maybe there was something more to the rock, after all.
He entered a brief description on his computer, placed the rock in the box with the rest of his collection and slid the box under his bed. He was surprised to see how late it was—after eleven.
He fell asleep wondering when he’d meet Norika again.
8
There was someone in his room. Nat lay motionless and stared at the ceiling. Moonlight through the window reached the side wall and across his bed. Apart from that, the room was in deep shadow.
It was about four in the morning, he thought. He listened. There it was again, a movement over towards the corner of the room. And something else, a low humming sound. He tried to work out where it was coming from—inside or out? His mouth felt dry and he needed to swallow. He noticed the window was wide open and remembered it was half open when he’d gone to bed.
His eyes adjusted to the half light. Someone was searching through his cupboard. He heard the low scrape of the second drawer, the one that was stiff. Other drawers were opened and slid softly back into place. He tried to keep his breathing regular while he worked out how to escape. He had a clear path to the door if he acted now, with the advantage of surprise.
He threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. The figure turned, startled, and moved swiftly to block his path. Nat stopped, heart pounding. They stood facing each other across the room.
“What do you want?” Nat said. He swallowed hard. The humming grew louder and more urgent.
The figure moved closer—a man, medium height, in a long coat with a high collar pulled up to cover the lower part of his face. Nat tried to make out his face but it was in shadow. Outside, the wind was rising, making the window rattle.
Nat shivered in his t-shirt and board shorts.
“What do you want?” he repeated.
A slight hesitation. “Rock Island. I can hear it.”
Something about his voice—tense and low, slightly clipped.
“Rock Island?” Nat kept his tone level.
“The rock, it’s named for the island.”
Nat took a second. “The rock from the market?”
“I need it.” The figure moved forward.
“It’s here!” Nat said hastily. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and pulled out the box. When he reached inside for the rock he saw to his astonishment its layers were lit with a pale translucent glow pulsing to the sound. Was this the power Norika had told him about? Or a battery inside the rock? He decided he wasn’t about to give it up easily.
He grasped the rock and scrambled backwards along the floor out of reach of the intruder. Keep moving. Without stopping he leaped up, sidestepped his adversary and dodged past him. The man recovered and lunged towards Nat, his arm outstretched enough to grab his t-shirt. Nat twisted and brought his hand down hard on the man’s arm in a karate chop.
The intruder dropped his hold. To Nat’s surprise he hesitated as if startled by something, staggered back a step and suddenly was gone, leaving only a faint outline shimmering in the moonlit space to indicate he’d been there at all.
Nat turned to look behind, to see what had startled him.
Someone else was in the room.
A second figure moved out from the shadows. Nat shut his eyes hard, hoping he’d wake up and the room would return to normal.
Norika was shaking him. “Nat, are you okay?”
His breath came in a rush. “Norika! What are you doing here? What’s happening?”
Norika moved quickly, tossing him his runners. “Put these on. We have to go. Bring the rock.”
The rock had stopped humming and was again opaque. Nat shoved it in his pocket, pulled on his runners and put on his parka. He grabbed his phone from the floor beside his bed. He flung his pack on his back then stopped. Why am I doing this?
He looked at Norika. “What do you mean, we have to go? Go where?” He hadn’t been thinking clearly. Stop now.
He turned to the door.
Norika grasped him firmly by the wrist and drew him back towards the open window. She was surprisingly strong. “We’re leaving together,” she said. Her grip was unshakable.
“Wait!” he said.
Norika loosened her grip and Nat wrenched free. If he was quick enough he could
get to the door before she could act. He didn’t want to use force but he thought he might have to. She seemed annoyingly stubborn.
Too late. Norika was fast. She darted forward and gripped his arm before he could resist. In an instant they were across the room, standing on the window seat, looking down on the front garden through the open window.
She’s kidding. He yanked hard to pull free but her hold was firm.
“Stop struggling,” she said. “Jump!”
She’s serious. He was suddenly airborne and impossibly light. Jumping to certain death, he thought, this is how it is, time slows.
Seconds passed, longer, he couldn’t tell, before they landed gently on the street below. With solid ground beneath them Norika released her hold and they stood looking around.
He was standing not in the street below his house, but in another street entirely. Dawn had started to colour the sky and Nat could see the dark outlines of unfamiliar buildings, none higher than two or three levels, different from the weatherboard cottages which lined his street in St Annes. He recognised the roof structure. They were somewhere in Asia. Even as he thought this, he realised how impossible it was. Where were they? Did Norika even know?
Norika was urging him on. “Yoshiki is waiting for us. We should be there for lunch.”
“Where are we?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. No point arguing.
Norika had already started down the street. They walked fast. As the light grew stronger Nat became aware of the increasing strangeness of the buildings—at street level they seemed distorted, blurred. Above them the clouds moved swiftly across the sky—too swiftly. He was wondering at the absence of people when he stumbled as if he’d bumped into someone. When he looked back he saw only a faint streak of colour in the air.
Things don’t happen like this.
Norika slowed to a steady walk and Nat held her pace. So far she’d refused to offer any explanation for all of this. He worried about his parents, how they’d react when they found him missing. As soon as he could, he’d ring them.
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