Second Sight

by Aoife Clifford

  ‘Lovely,’ said Mrs Bayless in her baby-doll voice. ‘Growing up so fast.’

  ‘Can we get a copy?’ asked Eliza.

  ‘I’ll give one to your dad when I get them developed,’ Mrs Bayless promised. ‘Now you lot keep an eye on my Tony tonight. Don’t you go leading him astray,’ she said, then turned to walk back the way she had come. Grace stifled a giggle.

  Amy looked up and saw Sergeant Mick Carmody in front of the first-aid tent on the foreshore. Two country fire trucks were parked next to him, the occupants bored.

  ‘Your dad’s still watching,’ she said.

  ‘He’s not waving again?’ asked Eliza. ‘So embarrassing.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘He’s just standing there, looking at us.’

  ‘Wait,’ replied Eliza.

  Within minutes, a crying child clutching a bent arm headed into the tent. After taking a quick look around to check that everything was under control, Mick Carmody followed him in.

  ‘Now,’ said Eliza, ‘while he’s distracted.’

  The three girls hurried down the beach, winding their way through territory-marking picnic blankets, unruly gangs of kids, frustrated mothers with tired toddlers and fathers clutching beers, oblivious to it all. Amy saw Tess Carmody, lying on a beach towel next to the lifesaver from the surf club, sit up and watch as they went past.

  ‘Your sister,’ she hissed.

  ‘She won’t say anything. Not when I know she’s sneaking off to the paddock party tonight.’

  An impatient Gus, tortoise-like with his enormous school backpack, was waiting for them down at the south end of the beach. The last light had left the sky and behind them the bonfire roared into life. Amy turned back for a quick glimpse of it.

  ‘Hurry up, the tide’s already coming in.’ Gus handed Grace a torch and all four of them quickly clambered up onto the slippery stones and began walking single-file.

  Out on the rocks, the waves seemed more ferocious, crashing close enough that a fine mist flecked Amy’s face. Her head filled with images of the sea racing in and dragging her back out with it – yet another reason why tonight was a bad idea.

  Grace, athletic and with the longest legs, went first, moving carefully to avoid the knee-deep rock pools that they had spent summers exploring, though never at night. Amy tried not to think about bluebottle jellyfish, knife-sharp shells or broken glass. They made their way forward under the shadow of the headland, leaving the lights and people from Main Beach behind them. It was darker than Amy expected, much darker, and she began to move more slowly, checking and rechecking every step. Eliza muttered about the lack of progress until suddenly she slipped and had to grab onto the back of Amy’s T-shirt to keep from falling. The girls wobbled violently, just managing to stay upright.

  ‘Are you still wearing your sunglasses?’ asked Amy furiously. ‘It’s night-time.’

  ‘I’m not, promise,’ answered Eliza.

  ‘Then it’s those ridiculous shoes.’

  Eliza had insisted on wearing brand-new strappy sandals that had no grip.

  ‘I’ll take them off,’ Eliza said. Amy could hear the anxiety in her voice. Eliza wanted this night to be perfect.

  The torch shone in their direction. ‘Next bit’s easier,’ said Grace, trying to be encouraging.

  As Eliza took off her shoes, Amy put a hand out to Grace, who hauled her up onto the next rock. Rounding the point, Amy could see two flickering figures standing around a tiny campfire up above the high-tide watermark.

  ‘There, Amy,’ said Gus, proudly. ‘Didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out.’

  Amy looked at the almost non-existent fire, which was giving off more smoke than heat. This would be one of those nights where the retelling was going to be about a million times more exciting than the actual event, she thought. Sneaking off from the community celebrations for their own private New Year’s Eve party at Cromwell’s Beach had been Eliza’s idea. Nicknamed ‘Crummies’, the beach was overlooked by tourists and ignored by locals, both put off by the temperamental rips and lethal tides, the large jagged rocks scattered along it and the long walk from the road. Eliza had been inspired by the fact that her older sister was going to the paddock party. It was the latest skirmish in the Carmody sisters’ ongoing war.

  Clambering down crevices, they waded through the cold, shallow water until they reached the sand. Tony Bayless and Luke Tyrell had already set up camp around the fire, along with their beer bottles.

  Eliza and Grace ran up the beach as Amy trudged slowly behind them.

  ‘Hi Tony,’ said Eliza.

  ‘Took your time,’ Luke said, grinning up at them, his curly hair slicked back against his head. ‘Waited until all the work was done.’

  Tony glanced up as well and looked like he might say hello but then didn’t.

  ‘What do you mean “work”?’ demanded Gus, who was pulling towels, lollies, chips and more beers out of his schoolbag. ‘You’ve nearly let it go out.’ He grabbed a large stick that was lying in the sand and began stoking it. Luke opened his mouth to argue and Amy shot Gus a warning look because Luke had a temper.

  ‘You’re useless, Tyrell,’ Gus said in a way that defused the situation and then shot Amy a grin. ‘Right, we need more kindling.’

  Eliza flopped onto the sand next to Tony and gave Amy an imploring look.

  ‘I’ll go,’ volunteered Amy dutifully.

  ‘Me too,’ said Grace, who still had the torch.

  Together they walked slowly up the beach towards the tangle of windswept shrubs and gum trees.

  ‘Does Tony ever talk?’ asked Amy, once they were out of earshot.

  ‘Maybe he’s the strong silent type,’ Grace said. ‘Besides, Eliza does enough talking for two.’

  ‘Eliza says he can drive us home later.’

  ‘If they’re drinking, I’m not getting into a car with them.’ Grace’s mum was a nurse at the local hospital and regularly told stories of horrific car crashes caused by drunk drivers.

  ‘What will we do?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Could hitch.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Amy. It was a long way home but Amy didn’t like the sound of hitching any more than she liked the idea of a drunken Tony. She started hunting through the undergrowth for twigs.

  ‘Snakes,’ reminded Grace. Amy quickly took a step backwards. The boys could get their own damn kindling. Grace shone the torch and carefully began to forage.

  ‘My New Year’s resolution is to stop listening to Eliza,’ Amy told Grace. ‘Her and her crazy schemes.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Grace. ‘Tonight could be fun.’

  ‘With a certain Luke Tyrell, perhaps?’ said Amy, trying to give Grace a push but missing completely as her friend saw it coming and dodged.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Grace, but Amy knew she had been shyly edging towards Luke ever since the beginning of summer.

  ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything to anyone. Your secret is safe.’

  ‘Well then, just a bit,’ admitted Grace.

  Amy ran her fingers along the top of the dried marram grass, feeling the sticky rasp of it against her skin. Grace had one of those kind hearts and over-active imaginations that made her see the best in people even when they were idiots. If there was going to be a general pairing off, then that left her with Gus and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Grace needed to pee, so they moved further into the shadowy scrub, where the trees stripped the moonlight into pieces like the bark peeling off the trunks. She chose the biggest gum they could find, stomping around the base of it to scare away snakes. Grace handed Amy the torch and then disappeared around the side. As she held it, Amy felt that somehow the small circle of light only served to make the rest of the darkness so dense she could feel it pressing against her skin. That made her shiver. She switched off the torch to see if her eyes could adjust properly.

  ‘Grace,’ said Amy.

  There was only the soun
d of her own breath, loud in her ears, an empty sound like the wind in a shell.

  A faint rustling.

  ‘Grace,’ she repeated in a whisper as her heart began to quicken. She had a sudden feeling of loss in her bones.

  A loud mournful scream from overhead made her jump.

  A shape moved from behind the tree. Two eyes peered and then blinked.

  ‘That’s a black cockatoo flying over from Main Beach,’ came Grace’s voice. ‘Another one bothered by the bonfire and the crowd.’

  Amy switched the torch back on.

  ‘If there’s a flock of them it means that rain’s coming,’ said Grace.

  That’s all Kinsale needed, thought Amy. Luckily, her family was heading north tomorrow for a couple of weeks’ holiday where, hopefully, the weather would be better.

  They took so long getting back to the campfire, trying to give Eliza plenty of time to work her charms on Tony, that Gus came looking for them. When they finally returned, their arms full of sticks, Amy could see quite a few empties next to Eliza.

  ‘Look, Tony bought us drinks,’ said Eliza. She handed her one, and Amy could smell the cordial pinkness of alcohol on Eliza’s breath.

  ‘Great.’ Amy decided to pour it on the sand when no-one was looking. Gus grabbed the sticks and began throwing them on the fire, which was looking healthier.

  Tony stood up. The only son of Janey and Wes Bayless, the local publicans, he was tall, much taller than the others, a man-shape with a boyish face, standing there with his hands awkwardly thrust into the pockets of his jeans. Maybe that was part of the attraction, Amy thought, because it wasn’t his conversation.

  ‘So anyway,’ he said, not really looking at anyone and certainly not at Eliza, ‘I should head. I promised Dad I’d make a delivery to the paddock party.’

  ‘Where are they holding that this year?’ asked Gus.

  The venue changed every time to outfox the police.

  ‘At the old woolshed on the Ophir Road side of our property, well away from the house.’

  There was more than a touch of brag to this, Amy thought. It wasn’t like the Bayless family actually lived in The Castle, they just ran a function business out of it that wasn’t making any money, according to town gossip.

  ‘You can’t go yet,’ said Eliza, standing up as well. ‘You’ll miss the fireworks.’ She pulled on his arm and checked his watch. ‘It’s almost midnight.’

  ‘I’m already late.’

  ‘Maybe we could go with you,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘There isn’t room in my ute for everyone.’

  Amy could see disappointment ripple across Eliza’s face. She’d been planning this New Year’s Eve for weeks. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

  ‘Besides, it’s not for kids,’ he went on. ‘You are all underage, right?’

  ‘But you don’t have to go straight away. Let’s go for a swim first,’ Eliza wheedled. She was standing close enough to the fire for it to warm her to a red-hot glow. There was a boozy shimmer to her.

  Tony stood there, looking uncomfortable, watching as Eliza slipped out of her sundress, revealing a bikini underneath.

  ‘Didn’t bring anything to swim in,’ he muttered, starting to hunt around for his jacket.

  ‘We can go skinny-dipping,’ said Eliza, and before anyone could argue she was reaching around and unhooking her bikini top. Amy wanted to stop her, but instead she watched as Eliza, aware that all eyes were on her, started to wriggle out of her bottoms.

  Amy had spent most of the last year worrying if her boobs would ever grow, and trying not to get caught peeking at anyone else’s chest in the school change rooms. Here, for the first time, someone was actually standing there, daring her to look. The fact that it was her best friend complicated matters, so she watched the others instead. Tony was frozen to the spot, Grace had her hand over her mouth and Luke’s eyes were hanging out his head, blood rushing away from his brain at speed. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Gus, to see him staring at another girl.

  Eliza stood there, a beautiful brazen bronze, then raised her hand and even twirled the bikini around before flinging it on the sand. It was Tony who dropped his gaze first. Eliza’s chin stuck out defiantly. Amy knew she’d never back out now.

  ‘Last one in,’ she said, then turned and started running towards the sea.

  All her hard work hit a target but it was the wrong one. Luke threw his head back and gave a kind of strangled coyote howl before going after her. He stripped at the water’s edge then tumbled into the sea, puppy-dog eager, a sleek seal head bobbing in the waves before Amy lost sight of him.

  Amy glanced at Grace to see if she was going to join them but Grace just stood there. The look on her face made Amy decide she did need a drink after all, and she scrabbled in the sand to find the bottle. This was what boys like Tony and Luke always did, they hurt girls’ feelings and were too stupid to realise it. Sometimes she wondered if boys had any empathy at all or if they were just a mix of testosterone and muscle. She had been especially wrong about Luke, and felt terrible that she had said anything encouraging to Grace. Gus caught her eye and shrugged his shoulders as if he too was confused about what had just happened. Tony still hadn’t left and Amy felt like shoving him hard. Couldn’t he have waited until midnight? Shown Eliza some attention?

  There was a loud whistle, a bang, and fireworks exploded above them from Main Beach. The four heads turned as one to watch the paper cuts of gold and silver against the blackness. If only, Amy thought, her eyes blurred with the cold beauty of them, if only they had started a few minutes earlier. Eliza would have launched herself at Tony whether he liked it or not, and Luke might have kissed Grace.

  ‘Happy New Year,’ said Gus to no-one in particular, but slowly his hand crept out towards Amy’s until he touched her fingers. She didn’t move away.

  The sky quickly emptied of all but moon and grey smoke.

  ‘There were hardly any fireworks this year,’ Amy complained to Gus. ‘Blink and you’d miss them.’ She spoke to try and cover up the sound of her heart beating a little faster in anticipation that he might come closer, but he stayed where he was. Then Tony coughed, and Amy wished he was at the bottom of the ocean. Couldn’t he just hurry up and go before Eliza came back?

  ‘Let’s nick Luke’s clothes,’ said Gus. Amy thought this was inspired. It could turn the whole thing into a joke, maybe even cheer up Grace a little. She picked up the limp bundle of Eliza’s clothes from near the fire, determined that these should be hidden as well, and then grabbed Grace’s arm to drag her to the water’s edge. Grace was like a dead weight, but she didn’t resist. Gus darted the torch this way and that, trying to find what Luke had discarded.

  ‘Where are they?’ asked Grace. The words came out clotted, as if she had a cold. Gus shone the torch out into the ocean, the light small and rippling on the vast stretch of water. Amy realised she couldn’t hear splashing or talking or anything above the monotonous crash of waves. No blue-lipped naked bodies running up to warm themselves by the fire. Her skin prickled like sunburn and the start of a hot rush of dread began sloshing inside her. Surely it was too quick for anything bad to have happened.

  Gus ran along the beach shouting out their names. Amy tried as well, but the sea seemed so loud and her voice was so small and all she could do was follow the torch’s strange tunnel vision as though it was a stage spotlight waiting for a grand entrance that didn’t come. She ran through the tangled seaweed at the water’s edge, panic eating holes in her as she tried to work out what to do next. Tony had his car but it would take far too long to get help.

  It was Grace who wordlessly grabbed the torch out of Gus’s hands and shone it sideways, away from the water and further along the beach. They were on the sand, lying down, naked Luke on top of naked Eliza, both of them very much alive.

  The torch fell from Grace’s hand and she immediately ran back towards the fire. Amy saw her swoop down to grab her thongs before run
ning up the beach so fast that there was no hope of catching her.

  ‘Grace,’ Amy shouted, her voice strong and loud now. ‘Wait.’

  But she was already vanishing into the dark and Amy could only make out the flicker of her legs, the backs of her feet, as she kept running.

  4

  My phone dings.

  ‘You,’ says Amy. ‘Again!’ She turns the car into the driveway of Emerald Coast Homes. There have been three work calls, two meetings postponed and a long conversation with my personal assistant about what I need her to email me ASAP and what can wait for my return. The text turns out to be from Gavin, reminding me to drop by the police station to make a statement. I reply: ‘Caught Tyrell yet?’

  A waiting cloud and then a sad-face emoji.

  I already regret agreeing to see my father, so any other family catch-up is out of the question today. I’ll visit Dad, have my meeting with Rob and then drive four hours back to the city. Gavin will have to wait.

  ‘Heard from Tristan?’ I ask Amy.

  ‘Apparently he’s too busy for us mere mortals,’ she says, ‘but I’ll keep trying.’

  She parks in the dedicated doctor’s spot next to the disabled parking. The car park is almost empty, which makes the surroundings look even more antiseptic. The building is made of anaemic cream bricks with two green squares of lawn either side of a large electric door. A couple of small trees have been pruned to within an inch of their lives. The gravel is swept, the footpath white and smooth. The building is all nursing and no home.

  ‘A little soulless,’ I venture to Amy.

  ‘I’ve seen worse,’ she replies. ‘Much worse.’

  An old lady, weathered as driftwood, sits on a bench in front of the Emerald Coast Homes sign, looking at us. Although the day is already swimming weather, she’s wearing a slightly too large overcoat that might actually be a dressing gown. There’s a suitcase an arm’s length away.