by Glover, Nhys
Nodding wordlessly, she hustled out the door. His victory felt hollow. Just as his victory earlier in the day with that witch Robbins, was hollow. Crossing verbal swords with either woman was beneath him. He could verbally wipe the floor with both of them any day of the week. Neither had the intellect to compete with him.
Now Jane would be a different case all together. If she could ever get over her shyness and spar with him, he would be lucky to escape with his metaphoric head.
That idea had him smiling, as he turned on the TV and settled in.
‘I will miss you…’
The words popped into his mind, uncalled for, the beautiful voice that spoke them filled with such sad passion.
You won’t need to miss me, sweet Jane. You will see me again soon, I promise you!
Chapter Three
Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny, just as it had for the last month, without fail. The promise of another sweltering day was already making the still air stifling. Jane had thought to give herself a birthday treat and sleep in, but then the idea of wasting her time mopping in bed, as she had mopped since Friday morning, seemed a sin. Julio would not see sleeping in as a treat. He’d want her to do something fun.
‘You can wear it in the surf…’ he’d said about the pendant that now sat snuggly around her neck. Maybe that was what she needed to do – go to the beach. When was the last time she did such a thing? Not since she was a young teen and had gone with a friend from school. She’d been badly burned that day, and suffered for weeks afterwards, skin turning lobster red, then dark brown, and then finally peeling to reveal yet more raw, lobster skin beneath.
This time she wouldn’t use coconut oil. She’d use zinc cream, and walk the beach as a painted Red Indian. So she’d look like a dag. Her one piece swimming costume and podgy body already assured her that title. Why not go the whole hog, and coat herself in zinc and wear a sunhat?
The decision somehow already made, she crept around the small flat, getting her things together. Her mother had been on another bender the night before, and would be sleeping it off until lunchtime. She’d barely notice her daughter was missing until late in the afternoon when she’d be looking for food. Jane would make sure she brought something nice back for them to share as a birthday treat. If she caught her mother before she started drinking again, they might have a few nice hours together before the alcohol turned her maudlin or argumentative.
After a quick plate of cornflakes, she headed for the door, her heart lifting for the first time in days. She was now nineteen, and hadn’t Julio called that a special age. He’d sounded like a very old man when he’d called her a ‘remarkable young woman’. It was more something she’d expect to hear from a grandfather, if she had one, rather than a boy barely out of his teens. But it had been said with such feeling; it had meant the world to her. And she knew those words were no mere flattery or kindness. He had meant every word.
As she sloped along the quay on thongs, wearing a mini shift over her swimmers, a sunhat on her head, and wicker basket over shoulder, she let her mind draw up the image of Julio leaning over her hand, after kissing it. That kiss was just what one of the princes in her fairy tales would have done. His brown eyes had glowed with intensity as he looked at her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he felt something for her, in those moments.
But of course, that was absurd. Beautiful men like Julio didn’t even look at girls like her. If he felt anything for her at all, it was sympathy, or possibly a little admiration, if ‘remarkable’ could be labelled a term of admiration. But none of that translated to romantic feelings, or even sexual ones.
Part of her actually wished Maude was right, and that he’d been trying to seduce her, her ‘Aussieness’ making her more appealing than she would otherwise be. But there had never been any move to take their relationship any further than a few minutes of question and answer, over the shop counter, as he bought his cigarettes for the day.
When she came to think about it, the sort of questions and his interest in the answers could have easily come from a man old enough to be her grandfather. Someone who was delighted by the maturity she showed, compared to the vapid beach bunnies that made up the bulk of her generation. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Julio might behave much older than his years, but he could only be a few years older than her, couldn’t he?
And what did it matter anyway? He was gone from her life now – disappeared as suddenly and completely as he’d appeared. When she asked a few cautious questions about him from the locals, no one knew him or where he came from. He’d been seen coming and going from The Rocks, but no one seemed to think he was staying around the area. He was a mystery.
There was already a crowd waiting for the Ferry to Manly when she arrived, and she was forced to queue in the sun to get her ticket. Then she joined another queue, along with harassed mothers and their kids, and groups of Pepsi Generation teenagers who looked right through her.
Finally, she found a seat outside on the thin deck that rimmed the side of the twin stacked steamer. She enjoyed the cool wind on her skin as the ferry made its way past the Harbour Bridge and the new Opera House, the shells of which had been rising slowly over the last year. Then they made their way past Fort Denison, the little fortified island in the middle of the long, inlet-gouged harbour, toward Sydney Heads.
As they hit the unsettled waves at the harbour entrance, and the wind whipped at her clothes and tore her hat from her head, she laughed with exhilaration.
This was living – blue sky above her, the deck rolling beneath her, and the salty wind in her hair. For once, she felt free and young, and ready for her life to truly start. Up until now, she had been just waiting on the side-lines, patiently dreaming of a future that could never be hers. Now she felt something shift inside her, waking up, clamouring to escape. Life! She wanted a life. And if that required courage to claim, then she would find that courage somewhere.
The exhilaration of those few minutes in rough water lasted her the full length of the hot walk through the Corsa to the beach. Then, as she spied the already crowded white sand, she felt the familiar shyness returning. How was she ever going to go down there and take off her dress in front of all those strangers? What if someone laughed at her? Or worse, what if some old man, with a hairy back and beer belly, tried to pick her up, seeing her as an easy mark?
Biting her thin bottom lip, Jane scrambled across the burning sand until she reached the cool, damp water’s edge. There, she pulled out her beach towel and sat down on it. Her theory was that if she was as close to the water as possible, then the amount of time she would be on show in her swimmers would be minimal. Just a quick dash to the waves, and then she’d be able to blend in with the other swimmers, covered to the waist by the surging waves.
Lathering herself with zinc, after taking off her dress, she took a moment to enjoy the scene from her unobtrusive, prone position. The sound of the breaking waves was loud and hypnotic, the scream of seagulls overhead, and the laughter of children in the shallows, forming a canticle to the main melody. Beautiful bodies, both male and female, strolled along the water’s edge, preening and enjoying the admiration they drew.
What must it be like to be that beautiful? To feel that level of confidence, to know people looked at you, not because you were an oddity, but because you were something worth admiring?
The slight breeze blowing off the blue water was cool, and the hot sun on her skin was mellowed. Forgetting herself in the moment, she became one with the crowd, revelling in the holiday. These people, who had come from all over the city, were strangers to her. But in that moment, they all worshipped the same sun god, prostrate before him in adoration.
When the heat became unbearable, she made the run for the water, and enjoyed the chill of the waves as they beat at her body. This was fun, she told herself in surprise. She was having fun, as she let the waves knock her off her feet so she could float on the shifting tide, eyes stinging from the salt. She e
ven managed to exchange happy smiles with other bathers sharing the same waves.
Before she knew it, the sun was making its way toward the horizon behind the cityscape, and people were beginning to pack up for home. She had been enjoying herself so much she hadn’t felt the need to eat, and had been satisfied with the bottle of water she’d packed that morning, even though it was hot by the time she finished it.
The beach felt different in the late afternoon shadows. More friendly somehow, now that the bulk of people had left. She should be heading home, she knew, but the temptation to stay just a little longer, to eek just a little more juice out of her lovely day, was too much. One more swim and then she’d go, she told herself, even though the life guards had already put away the flags, and gone back to the clubhouse for the day. People still surfed. She wouldn’t be alone. And she’d stay where the flags had indicated it was safe.
As she bobbed up and down on the waves, she looked back at the almost empty beach with its high-rise city backdrop, and thought of Julio for the hundredth time that day. This had been his choice for her, a treat to celebrate her nineteen years. She felt the golden locket around her neck and clasped it lovingly. Thankyou my Prince, I will remember you always!
As the shadows lengthened, and the first rumbles warned of an approaching southerly buster, Jane hurriedly packed up her things, replaced her dress over her sticky, burned body, and headed for the Ferry Terminal. It would be after dark before she got home now. She hated to walk the Quay and The Rocks once night fell, although it was perfectly safe in the early evening.
Although she didn’t carry a watch, she assumed it was already close to seven o’clock. Her mother would be wondering where she was. There’d be a scene, especially if she’d been drinking on an empty stomach. The thought filled her with dread. How she wished for a ‘normal’ relationship with her mother: one of shared love and companionship. But she knew her mother was beyond that now. Life outside the bottle was no life at all.
Her belly rumbled, reminding her of its emptiness. When had she ever gone without food for a whole day? If she could keep this up, she might lose some weight. But then, what did it matter? Julio was the only one she wanted to look attractive for. Having him gone was all the more reason to forget about diets and looking good. There would never be another man she would want to attract.
The 7.15 North Head Ferry was just about to pull up its gangplank as she approached, and she had to dash the last hundred yards to scramble on board, thanking the long-suffering ferrymen for waiting for her.
The cool southern gale had reached them, and rain was pelting down. She noticed that all of the passengers were inside in the lighted interior. None of them seemed willing to brave the weather.
As the Ferry backed out of the wharf and made its way past the heads, back toward the city and Circular Quay, Jane made the decision to be out on the lower deck, sticking to the north facing side of the ferry to get some protection from the southern winds. She loved storms, and the coolness of the wind and rain, after the oppressive heat of the day, was incredibly refreshing.
As she battled with the sliding door to the deck, she noticed two young boys at the far end, closest to the bow. One of them was climbing up onto the railing, while the other watched. She caught words on the wind ‘I dare you… cry baby… sook!’
Instantly alert, she rushed toward the boys, ready to step in. She wouldn’t be welcome, she knew that. But the safety of a child was more important that her hurt feelings, in that moment. Jane wanted to yell at them, but her words would have been blown back in her face. So she tried to run faster, straining against the exhaustion she felt from the sprint to the wharf and the day without food.
Just as she got within reach, the red haired boy on the deck yelled ‘Jump!’ and pushed his mate’s feet, perched precariously on the railing, out from under him. For a moment the boy clung to the metal side of the ferry. Then, in horrifying slow motion, she saw him lose his grip and fall backwards, his fair hair sticking out, skinny arms flailing, eyes wide with terror. His mouth formed a wordless cry.
Without thinking, Jane pounded on the glass window to the interior, yelling ‘Man overboard!’ Then, seeing a few horrified faces had heard her, she turned back to the water.
Slipping off her thongs, she dropped her basket and took a running jump up onto the railing. With a painful grunt, she landed on her stomach across the wooden handrail. Adrenalin gave her the strength to pivot her body until it lay lengthwise along the railing. Then, slipping sidewards, she let gravity have its way, dropping off the side of the ferry into the water. Her only thought was to save the lad.
The wind and rain buffeted her on her short drop. Taking a deep breath just before she broke the turbulent surface, she plunged deep into the bay. The cold was shocking. She thrashed against the pull of the water that dragged her along the barnacled side of the craft. Her skin tore away painfully. A glancing blow to the head dazed her. Which way was up? Where was the boy? Her lungs were screaming. She needed air. Any moment she would be forced to gasp in water. Not yet. Hold on a little longer. The pain down her side was excruciating.
Black water dragged at her. Her open eyes stung from the salt. She knew this moment, had dreamed it many times. As the realisation dawned, she saw the churning propeller coming toward her. Sharp terror had her screaming. Her lungs filled with water. And, mercifully, she blacked out just as she reached the sharp, spinning metal.
‘Over there!’ Dorothy yelled, pointing toward a bobbing spot in the churning water. The ferry was moving away now. They were ready to act.
Julio spun the wheel, and headed in the direction she indicated. The cruiser was powerful, but the waves were high and wild. It took all his strength to keep them on course. He leaned out from behind the useless windscreen that was blurred with rain. He saw the light spec in the dark water only twenty feet away. He slowed the motor as he came alongside.
It was the boy, thrashing his arms in terror. Handing over the wheel to Dorothy, Julio went to the side closest to the boy and reached over the side, snagging his shirt, and pulling him in close to the hull. With a mighty heft, he yanked the crying child from the waves, then lowered him to the bottom of the boat. Once assured of his safety, Julio raced back to take the wheel from Dorothy.
‘Check on him, I’ll take over,’ he yelled at her, pushing her away from the wheel. If he could keep her occupied with the boy for a few minutes, she wouldn’t notice he was trawling the area for the girl.
His ploy worked. Dorothy scrambled over to where the boy lay, and wrapped him in her arms, soothing him with words of safety. Julio turned to the black water again. Time was short. The ferry was already slowing as it made its turn to come back. His eyes watered from the briny wind. Everything was dark turbulence and distant blinking pins of light, from the suburbs hugging the shoreline.
Where are you Jane? She had to be here. Had to be close. If the boy had been able to stay afloat and conscious, so should she. Why couldn’t he see her?
Then, when he thought there was no hope, he saw something floating about thirty feet away. He gunned the motor and headed in that direction. The closer he got, the more terrified he became. The body, because that was what it was, floated face down. It looked smaller than it should.
Something was badly wrong.
As he edged closer, he yelled for Dorothy to come and take the wheel. She looked at him in confusion, the wind flinging her neat French roll across her face.
‘Now, damn you!’ he yelled. And his tone was enough to have her obeying.
He lined the cruiser up next to the floating shape, and powered down. Leaving it idling, he ran down the side of the boat and leaned in to grab the body. It came too easily into his arms, as if it weighed no more than the eight year old boy. With horror, he saw that her legs were missing.
‘Oh, God!’ Dorothy cried and turned away to vomit into the churning waves.
‘Get the Portal open, now!’ he ordered, as he desperately tore off his shir
t to press into her bleeding torso where her legs should have been.
‘We can’t! We have to get to shore!’
‘No time. Calibrate your PA for a new Exit Point. Now, Dorothy. There’s no time. The ferry is nearly turned around.’
He saw her hastily pressing buttons on the Portal Activator, a blackberry size gadget all Jumpers carried. It wasn’t optimal to open a portal from a moving space, but as long as they kept the craft as still as possible and made the Jump as quickly as possible, they might just manage it. Because, given the arterial bleed, Jane wouldn’t last until they reached the shore.
Suddenly a halogen bright shower of sparkling lights split the darkness at the centre of the boat. Tommy screamed at the sight of it, but otherwise kept still. The Portal, once opened, would not move, but the boat would. If they didn’t hurry, the boat would drift out from beneath the opening and they’d miss their chance.
‘Get the boy and Jump!’ He ordered his partner, as he scooped the unconscious, bloody torso of the girl into his arms.
Dorothy moved fast, he had to give her that. Scooping the child up into her arms, she sprang for the sparking lights, disappearing immediately. He was only a moment behind her, and the transition from wild darkness to stable light was shocking.
Spring 2331, New Atlantis GAIAN CONFEDERACY
There was no time to waste on appreciating the peace and stillness around him. He yelled out for a medivac team, and returned to his task of applying pressure to Jane’s gruesome wounds. There hadn’t been time to even check for breathing. She might already be dead. That wasn’t a possibility, he told himself firmly. Jane wasn’t dead. He couldn’t have got so close, and then to have her die. This shy, strange girl had to live!
The team were there, gently pushing him out of the way. For a few numb seconds, he sat on the cold stone dais and stared. The moving people in their white tunics seemed surreal. There was blood soaking into the stones, seeping into the cracks. There was so much of it.
