The Days of In Between

by Peter Valentine Fenton

  Suddenly the shark was gone, and he and Tara were retrieving the thing from the sand. It was a small globe with four different quarters. A desert, a snowing mountain, a tropical island and a tumbling waterfall. Tara was so excited, jumping about. ‘Toby, you just hold your finger down on where you want to go and we’ll be there. It’s magic!’

  The word ‘magic’ echoed until he abruptly found himself awake, sweating and remembering coldly everything that had happened.

  As he moved, he felt his bedsheet stick to his leg where the blood had now dried. He grimaced as he slowly ripped it off and stood up, reaching for a water bottle from the nearby fridge. He drank it all, gulp by furious gulp, and peered out through the doorway. His dad’s car had not returned and already the long shadows of the day were starting to disappear, soaked up by the looming night. There was barely anyone about.

  He could see that, for once, the phone box was empty. He grabbed his new magpie towel that was hanging at the end of the bed, shook the dried sand from it, slipped on his thongs and made his way to the nearby shower block, taking enough twenty-cent pieces from the small pile on top of the fridge to call to his mum. Within a minute he was dropping the coins into the slot and dialling the number he knew so well.

  He listened as it rang, over and over and over. There was no answer. He hung up, his coins jangling noisily as they fell through the phone. He fished them out and tried again. ‘C’mon. Pick up ... please pick up the phone,’ was his mumbled prayer.

  Again, he listened to the drum-beat precision of the phone ringing, picturing the sound reverberating throughout the house. Again, there was no answer. He placed the handpiece slowly back on the chrome hook, grabbed the coins and trudged on towards the amenities block, feeling the pinch of loneliness tighten.

  Later, back at the van, he dressed in some light clothing and searched the annex for something to ward off his hunger.

  Finding a packet of dried instant mashed potato, he turned on the old ceramic kettle, with its yellow body and brown lid. The sound of the bubbling water competed with the now rising sound of cicadas and laughing kookaburras, and despite this joyous chorus, he felt more alone than ever.

  It wasn’t until she reached the steps that led down to the beach that she stopped running. Puffed and seething, she grabbed the pipe handrail, with its cracked and weathered white paint rough under her hand, and made her way down the concrete steps, baking hot and peppered with stones of blue grey granite. Long strands of grass rose in this most inhospitable bed, to dance in the ocean breeze.

  She could still feel her anger simmer inside her, her mind a jumble of twisting thoughts. The whole idea of everybody lying to her made her feel sick. Just because she was young didn’t mean she couldn’t be trusted with the truth of what happened to her own mum. It was wrong and unfair. She felt pretty sure her mum wouldn’t have lied to her this way.

  She stepped onto the hot afternoon sand and then through the cool ankle-deep running water of the tiny inlet. She walked deliberately across its small ridges and grooves, her breathing slowing. It felt so nice that when she reached the edge of the shallow stream, she turned back and walked around and around as slowly as she could. She allowed herself to be mesmerised by the pretty patterns and soothing water until her mind stopped spinning, and she felt a sense of calm.

  Tara looked up. A glittering crescent of pale gold and blue lay before her, and beyond that the wharf. She rested her eyes on it for a moment and then slowly she turned so she purposely had her back to it. She shifted her gaze to the mountain that overlooked the town and recalled telling Toby about the cave she and her mum had sheltered in, the small secret place that time had eaten away under the rock ledge at the top.

  She raced home, careful that no one saw her. She located a small shoulder bag in her wardrobe. Casting her eyes about her room for anything useful to take, they settled on a photo of her mum that her nan had framed for her. Placing it gently in the bag, she headed for the kitchen, quickly grabbed two packets of biscuits, two mandarins and a bottle filled with cordial and headed to the hills.

  She walked the long way to the top of the mountain with a quiet determination drawn from her mother’s spirit. The path was deceptively slippery, covered by moist leaves and twigs, as so few people ever ventured up this far. She was careful to place each step on the small ridge on the side of the path, the way her mother had taught her, and even as she clung to the edges, her feet did slip in several startling moments.

  Tara felt comforted that she was now walking in her mother’s footsteps and felt her presence in everything around her.

  It was late afternoon by the time she reached the summit, happy with herself that she had avoided seeing anyone at all. She threw her bag in the cool shadows of her hiding place and took a walk around. The very top of the mountain was quite bare, with dried grass and dirt, a thin layer on the rocky outcrop. She looked over the tops of the tall trees where birds bustled about and chatted in their own secret language. On one side, she could see the caravan park where her new friend was staying, and then the beach, freckled with colourful umbrellas. A headland extended its long finger into the ocean, as if pointing to the horizon. Across the shoreline was the hint of the nearby river, hidden by a belt of lush green trees. Behind her, there was seemingly endless bushland filled with the dazzling sounds of wildlife. She loved the puzzles around her. She had no idea, for example, how the rusted car in the gully below had got there, covered in overgrowth entwined with the mysteries of time.

  As the sun began its nightly descent, she descended too a little, heading towards the berries, where she gorged herself on the ripest ones she could find. In the soft hue of twilight, she searched for the faint gleam from the red tiles of the roof of her home. Right now, she was no longer sure what ‘home’ meant. Home was her mum, and the memories of her mum on the mountain were a greater magnet than Nan’s house, which had become a prison of unreasonable rules and chores, where she was lied to by those closest to her.

  With a sudden and unexpected clarity, she decided she wasn’t going back.

  She made her way up to her hideaway, stopping only briefly to drag out an old wetsuit that she spotted. It was surely going to be a warm night but she needed all the comforts she could gather, and after brushing it down with a handful of nearby bottlebrush, it came up quite well.

  Tara watched as the sun slowly melted away and the night sky bloomed a thousand stars. The moonlight bathed the land in its mysterious silver silent calm, interrupted only by the vast orchestra of cicadas, birds and the beach’s endless thumping crash in the distance. She ate a few biscuits from her hastily packed supplies, and with the wetsuit bundled under her head, she soon fell asleep, completely unaware that at the bottom of the mountain her brother Josh, sent out to search for her, had recognised Toby’s magpie towel drying outside his van and was waging war in the only way he knew how.

  Toby awoke suddenly in the pitched darkness of night to the noise of something hitting the roof. He could hear the branch of the nearby tree scrape against the side of the van in the wind. Maybe that was it. He closed his eyes.

  Bang. Again something hit the van, this time in a different place. He froze still in the dark and listened more intently.

  The old fridge suddenly whirred into life. As used to the sound as he was, tonight it startled him cold.

  Nearby, an owl hooted and again the branch scraped slowly, encouraged by the rustling wind.

  Bang.

  Toby’s eyes were wide in fear.

  Another bang. They were loud, and precise. It wasn’t the branch. It was rocks.

  Another one, thudding on the annex roof above his head, made him certain he was under attack. His breath quickened. He could only imagine this was how his dad felt when he heard sudden noises, like the sound of a car backfiring, or even fireworks. In the past few years, any sudden bang or intense situation had instantly transported his dad back to the terror of his years as a soldier in Vietnam. Toby, his heart pounding, look
ed towards the van to see if the bangs had woken his father, but there was no sound or movement coming from inside.

  He climbed out of the bunk and tried the van door, but it was still locked. Dad and Judy weren’t there. He had no idea of what the time was, and scrambled to find his torch and wristwatch.

  Suddenly there was the sound of an approaching car, loud on the gravel road.

  ‘Dad!’ Flooded by a feeling of relief, Toby looked out a small slit available through the zipped annex window.

  The car stopped and someone got out. He couldn’t make out who it was, but he knew it wasn’t Dad. Quickly he clambered under the bunk, pushing aside a small surfboard and some fishing rods. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His chest thumped harder and his mouth was dry with fear.

  A beam of light from a torch went back and forward over the van. He tried to hold his breath but that made him feel like he was about to explode.

  ‘Hey, Toby?’ a woman’s voice called. ‘Hey Toby, are you here?’

  In a wave of confusion, he heard himself say, ‘Yes.’

  A hand pulled back the door ribbons and the torch shone on the bed where he was just sleeping. ‘Where are you?’ the voice asked calmly.

  He moved his head out. ‘I’m under here.’

  Toby rolled out from under the bunk and in the dim light recognised the nurse from the local hospital whom he’d met when Danny had needed some attention after yet another holiday injury.

  He moved towards her, trusting her immediately. She was short – they were both the same height, he noticed. She had long, frizzy hair and gentle eyes that shone a nice feeling into him.

  ‘Aww, geez, are you okay?’ she asked him.

  ‘No I’m not ...’ he replied, not ashamed to tell her. ‘I’m scared.’

  She walked in slowly. ‘It’s okay, Toby. My name’s Boo. Do you remember me from the hospital?’

  Toby nodded.

  ‘Good-oh! I certainly remember your younger brother.’ She smiled, tilting her head. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late. I’ve just finished work and your dad sent me to check on you.’

  ‘Why? Where is he?’ Toby wasn’t sure if he should be worried or angry.

  ‘He’s okay, but he’ll stay overnight in hospital. Both he and Judy will. I’ve just come from there.’

  Toby hadn’t thought things could get worse, but there it was. ‘What’s happened to them?’

  Boo gestured for Toby to sit down on the bunk and sat beside him. ‘They were in a car crash this afternoon. Don’t worry, it’s just minor,’ she added quickly, seeing Toby’s face. ‘They’re going to be fine. We’re just monitoring them for concussion, and Judy has a few cuts and scrapes. They have to stay put a couple of days. I just live down the road. I was coming past here and I said I’d drop in and let you know what was going on. I’m just sorry it’s so late.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Toby was reeling, and he thought maybe knowing at least this one small thing might help ground him.

  Bang. Something hit the van again.

  Boo turned around sharply. ‘What was that?’ She walked to the door as another rock hit the side.

  ‘I think someone’s throwing rocks at me,’ Toby said.

  She nodded, understanding, and out she went into the night. He heard running and shouting, ‘Hey, I can see you! Hey, you there. Cut it out!’

  After a minute or two, Boo walked back to the van where Toby met her at the doorway.

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure they’ve gone, whoever they were,’ she said reassuringly.

  Toby looked at the darkened hillside for a moment. Suddenly the branches were lit up with swirling flashes of blue light. The squawks of a siren nearby and the sound of a car braking both alarmed and comforted him.

  ‘See, whoever it was has got the attention of the local constable now,’ Boo said. ‘I can guarantee you’ve nothing to worry about it. And it’s probably just some bored idiot playing tricks. Nothing to do with you.’

  Toby nodded, not quite believing her, but wanting to. ‘I think I upset a few people on the wharf earlier today. I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Boo said. ‘But I did hear there was some kind of kerfuffle.’

  Toby nodded. ‘I really feel awful about it. A little kid went into the water and ...’ He stopped, the image sharply haunting him again.

  ‘There’s some accommodation available at the hospital. Would you feel safer there tonight?’

  ‘Umm, I’ll be okay, I reckon,’ he told her, sounding more certain than he actually was.

  She looked at him, and this time it was Boo who didn’t quite believe Toby. ‘Hey, how about I grab some stuff and keep you company?’

  He shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to cause any fuss. And with that she ducked out the door, popped the boot of her car, grabbed a rolled-up swag and within minutes had it set up on the floor. Toby climbed into the bottom bunk and settled in again.

  Boo glanced up at the empty top bunk. ‘So where’s that brother of yours? If I remember correctly, he had a greenstick fracture last Christmas.’

  Toby was amazed at her memory. ‘That’s right, that’s Danny. He fell from the top of a slippery dip.’

  Boo looked around again, noticing the obvious lack of siblings sharing the annex. ‘So, he’s not here?’ It was an innocent question but it hit Toby hard.

  ‘No,’ he responded, slightly squirming. ‘Danny and my sister Emily are back home ... with Mum. It didn’t work out that they could come down. So, just me this time,’ he said, trying to smile.

  ‘Hmmm. Well I knew it wasn’t your mum in the hospital with your dad.’ Boo looked at Toby knowingly. ‘It’s okay. Things like this happen when the situation changes. It will all sort itself out, I promise you that.’

  Toby’s eyes landed on different items around the annex – Danny’s untouched surfboard, Emily’s blue roller skates and their faded dry beach towels – and found himself thinking how even holidays, once always overflowing with things to do and the sometimes annoying antics of his siblings, had, too, been replaced with their conspicuous absence.

  ‘Yeah ... it’s all a bit ...’ he said, not quite finishing the thought. He felt the emptiness with a pang and it was soon followed by a small yawn.

  Boo looked across at him, her hands clasped under her chin.

  ‘It can be strange, coming back to a place that’s so quiet ... especially when you’re used to a bit more of a crowd. It takes some getting used to, that’s for sure.’ She paused, lost in her thoughts for a moment, then she drew her head back away from her hands with a loud intake of breath. ‘Come on, let’s get some sleep. It’s late. You don’t have to worry about those rocks being thrown now. It’s over. In the morning, I reckon we head up to the wharf and we can sort all this stuff out.’

  He grinned. ‘Yes, alright. Thanks!’ Relief, combined with tiredness overwhelmed him and he settled back in his bunk, feeling gratefully safe.

  It was the yelling somewhere in the night that broke Tara’s sleep. Words and fragments of phrases bounced around between the rocks and trees.

  She sat up and looked out. The disturbance sent a ripple through the mountainside, birds with their beaks once tucked into their wings now searched the area, heads twisting like small turrets and making calls into the night. She made out the silhouette of a rabbit, its ears tuned like a satellite dish to the heavens. Suddenly, it scrambled into the undergrowth, quickly followed by something larger and then the sounds of thrashing and the rabbit’s squeal. Then it stilled.

  Slowly, amongst the darkness, waved the magnificent plume of a fox’s tail as it backed out of the scrub holding the small animal by its neck. The fox’s head slowly turned towards her; its eyes gleamed a powerful yellow. Tara froze with fear. Precisely at that moment, a siren stabbed the night air. The rabbit, seizing its moment, wriggled somehow from the jaws of the fox and shot like a bullet once more into the scrub.

  Below her in the distance, the sounds of a scuffle followed by
the slamming of car door sent the fox scurrying back to the darkness. Tara, wide-eyed, used her heels to push herself deeper into the back of the small hidey-hole under the overhanging rock. It took a while for her to feel safe again as the night resumed its normal rhythm. As she relaxed, it started getting cold so she climbed into the old wetsuit, which she was very thankful she had rescued. Soon, somewhere before dawn, she fell asleep.

  The morning began slowly as Toby woke to a flickering kaleidoscope filtering through his eyelids. For a while he kept them closed and thought about the events of the day before. The image of Tara’s angry dad, waving the rifle in his hands returned over and over. In the light of day, he felt less sure about heading down to the wharf again.

  He half opened his eyes, to find a wallaby peering at him through the dark green flyscreen window. A glorious gargled trill of magpies overhead instilled in him some small semblance of confidence and he watched as the creature hopped off into its day. He then noticed Boo had packed up her swag and somehow made her way inside the van and was busy making some breakfast, which reminded him that not only had he not seen his dad, he had barely eaten anything much for what seemed like days. The smell of toast wafting into the annex made him a little homesick.

  Boo stuck her head through the van door. ‘Morning, you up?’ she asked. ‘I’ve fixed you a bit of tucker.’

  ‘Good morning!’ he said. ‘That sounds great!’ He was so hungry he flew up the steps into the van in a moment. He was surprised to find she had cleaned the entire place from top to toe and prepared an amazing feast. Pancakes, cut oranges to squeeze and iced tea to drink. There was an array of things like eggs, beans, tomatoes, toast, sliced cheese, even rings of pineapple in a saucer arranged with alternate layers of beetroot. Then there was the butter, sauces. It was the most special breakfast he’d ever seen! He sat down and she followed, throwing an apron across to the sink as she joined him.