by Suzanne Cass
Marg handed them both an oar. ‘Get rowing guys, we need to catch the other team.’
Tam followed her discouraged gaze and saw the other boat riding a final wave that would take them into the beach.
‘Shit. Shit,’ he swore.
‘Yep,’ Cilla replied, as she dug the oar deep into the water. He did the same on his side and they started to cut a swathe through the aqua water.
The seat was only just wide enough for them both to fit on, and the left side of Cilla’s body was jammed tight up against him. Every time she pulled the blade through the water her bare leg brushed up against his. Her skin was cool from their swim, but smooth and soft against his. He could feel the ripple of her thigh muscle as she worked to keep herself on the seat and lift the heavy oar.
Get a grip. Now was not the time to be having fantasies. He’d made a promise to himself he wouldn’t get caught up with anyone during this game. Throwing all his weight into rowing, he made the boat leap forward with a surge.
They weren’t far behind the other team by the time they crashed onto the beach. Between himself and Simon they’d made the little canoe fairly fly. Cho, Alisha and Madison ran into the water to help drag the boat up the beach.
‘Give me the bags,’ Madison demanded. She tore three bags out of Simon’s hands and ran up towards the table where the puzzle was to be completed. ‘Hurry up and bring the other bags. Quickly,’ she practically screamed. The bossy diva side of Madison didn’t impress Tam at all. Alisha and Cho ran after her with the remaining bags.
Cilla dropped her oar on the sand and leant forward in the boat, resting her elbows on her knees, head hung low.
‘You okay?’ She looked exhausted, but she turned her face up to him and gave a tired smile.
‘Yeah. That was pretty tough, huh?’
Tam rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles protesting, his chest still heaving from the exertion. For all of her slight form and petite stature, she’d done well, hadn’t given up rowing even once for the whole ride in. She was certainly made of sterner stuff than first impressions implied.
‘At least we’ve finished our part. Now it’s up to those other three,’ he replied.
‘Amen to that. I guess we’d better head up there and lend our support. There’s a lot riding on the outcome of this.’ She got to her feet, and half clambered, half staggered out of her side of the boat.
He agreed. No one wanted to be the first person voted out of the game. Ever.
Tam didn’t like the look of their odds when he saw how far behind his team was compared to the Nightrebels. They had to use their large puzzle pieces to build a life-size version of a ship’s wheel, the kind used to steer the huge wooden pirate ships in all those tacky B-grade movies.
Madison was trying to take over the puzzle, domineering and bullying Alisha and Cho. However, Cho was standing up to her. His nimble hands took away a few of the pieces Madison had put in the wrong place and started methodically placing one puzzle piece after another. Madison didn’t like being usurped, flicking her blond ponytail in annoyance, her perfect mouth forming into a childish pout. Good. Tam was glad Cho was using some initiative; it looked like he’d be a valuable member to the team.
Tam glanced down at Cilla standing next to him, and saw her throw an agitated gaze towards the other team. His gaze traced her profile, following the soft curve of her high cheekbones down to those full pink lips. A smattering of freckles covered her fine nose. She was beautiful, if you liked your women a little on the wild, untamed side. He watched as her expression changed from despair to surprise, the corners of her mouth lifting into a half-smile. He snapped his gaze away from her face.
The Nightrebels had fallen behind. They’d done a whole section of the puzzle upside down, and now had to pull it apart. There was a lot of yelling and arm waving going on, but would it be enough?
~
‘Dawnbreakers win exemption from the conclave.’ They were the sweetest words Cilla had ever heard. She watched JJ hold a statue aloft and couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. A body crashed into her and she felt her feet leave the ground as Simon lifted her up in a huge bear-hug, swinging her around in a circle.
‘We won. We won,’ he chanted, and for once in his life he was actually not annoying. She laughed along with him and then Alisha, Marg and Tam joined in the embrace, a mutual outpouring of ecstasy mixed with complete disbelief.
‘Come and get it Dawnbreakers,’ JJ boomed over their loud whoops of joy. Cho went out to grab the figurine and brought it back to the team, triumphant. It was a life-size replica of some kind of rainbow-coloured parrot, looking like it’d been seized straight off the set of the movie Treasure Island. But right now Cilla didn’t care what it looked like; it was what it symbolised that was important. Freedom from the vote tonight.
The Nightrebels stood subdued and glowering on their mat. Cilla thought she might’ve even seen one of the older ladies in the group shedding a few tears. It’d been so close. It could just as easily have been them crying at the thought of having to go to the conclave tonight. But they were safe. She was safe, for another couple of days at least. Until the next knockout battle. Thanks mainly to the efforts of Tam and Simon’s rowing prowess. Simon had definitely put his impressive biceps to good use today. And Tam, with his strong arms and tall stature had done more than his fair share of the work too. Tiny goose bumps raised up all over her body when she thought about how it’d felt, Tam’s bicep bumping into her shoulder, his long leg pressed up against hers as they both struggled to keep the boat moving forwards. It’d been difficult to keep her concentration on the paddle, and the beach in front of them.
‘There are a couple of little extra rewards involved in this knockout, that I didn’t mention earlier.’ JJ waited until the noise from the victory celebration had died down. It was hot out here in the blazing sun, and Cilla could feel sweat starting to trickle between her shoulder blades. But she could see no evidence of perspiration touching JJ’s skin. His black t-shirt – his signature apparel – was well chosen, hiding any tell-tale sweat marks, making him seem immune to the heat. It made Cilla feel grubby and second-rate, just looking at his crisp cleanliness.
‘Not only were you playing for exemption from the conclave, you were also playing for fire.’ He held up a flint for them all to see. Cilla noticed how his hands were neatly manicured. Blunt fingers, manly and thick, the lighter shade of his fingernails obvious against the darkness of the skin on the backs of his hands. ‘But Dawnbreakers don’t really need it now, do you?’
‘We’ll have it anyway thanks, JJ,’ said Alisha, walking up and taking the proffered item. ‘A flint will still come in handy.’ Cilla watched the Nightrebels out of the corner of her eye as they frowned in Alisha’s direction. No flint meant no fire for them tonight, and worse than having no heat it meant they’d go hungry, with no way to cook their rice. This wasn’t a good omen for the Nightrebels.
‘But because we cannot have our contestants dropping like flies due to dehydration or starvation, we’ll be giving the Nightrebels a flint as well,’ said JJ. Damn, they’d just lost any advantage they might have had over the other team. Her gut roiled with the unfairness of it all.
‘Secondly, will a member from each team come out and get this clue.’ JJ held up a small rolled parchment in each hand. Madison was the first off the mark, rushing out to snatch the proffered paper from his hand. ‘You’re required to share this information between all team members. It’s a clue to the whereabouts of a special golden doubloon that’ll give the person who finds it a single exemption.’ There were a couple of low, appreciative whistles from Simon and Glen. This could bestow great power in the game. Cilla could see all her team member’s eyes light up with the possibilities.
As soon as they were out of ear-shot of the other team, Cho said, ‘Come on, Madison, let’s see it then.’ There was a slight hitch to his voice as he wasn’t quite able to contain his excitement.
They all stood in a circle aroun
d Madison and watched her fingers strip away the twine holding it together and unroll the hand-made parchment. She read it out, her voice slow and measured. ‘Decipher these clues to find the hidden doubloon.’ Stretching out the parchment so they could all see it, she continued, ‘It’s a series of pictures. Does anyone know what they mean?’
Cilla crammed in as tight as she could next to Alisha, peering over her shoulder to get a good look at the symbols; just a couple of stylised drawings really. The first one was a picture of a large wave curling towards the shore. Did that mean the doubloon was somewhere near the water? The second picture was of a large tree towering over a stick-figure standing beneath it. That could represent any number of large trees near their beach, and Cilla was no closer to understanding that clue. The third picture was of a shovel next to a hole in the ground. Well at least she knew it meant she’d be digging for the doubloon, but how deep? And the fourth looked like it might’ve been meant to represent a cave, but it had a big red cross through it. Did that mean they shouldn’t be looking in any of the myriad of caves or crevices in the cliff faces surrounding their beach?
It was all so confusing.
Cilla spent the rest of the walk back to their camp turning the images over and over in her mind, trying to come up with an exact spot to start looking for the doubloon. She was sure everyone else was doing exactly the same thing. As usual, the game of Sea-Quest excelled at giving with one hand and taking away with the other. The clues were vague and cryptic. The person who found this exemption doubloon would have to be either very clever, or very lucky. Dammit, she needed to be that person.
~
‘I’d kill for a coffee right now, eh?’ The sigh Marg brought forth said it all and Tam had to sympathise with her. ‘Just one little sip, that’s all I need. If I concentrate hard enough I can almost taste it.’ Marg closed her eyes, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick the imaginary foam from her lips. Firelight played over her features, casting shadows that highlighted her square jaw. ‘There’s an awesome little café half a block from my place, where the barista roasts his own beans. The coffee is so dark and strong and earthy. It’s to die for.’ This time her sigh came out more like a groan.
‘Why bother tormenting yourself?’ Simon asked, his mouth cocked in a derisive smirk. ‘Look at me, I’m fading away before my very own eyes. I need my daily protein to keep this body going.’ He flexed his pecs at her. ‘But I’ve decided not even to think about what I’m missing out on. That way it won’t distract me from what I came here to do. To win this game.’ His smirk turned into a sly grin.
‘Oh, go away, Simon.’ Marg shuffled her backside around in the sand and turned her back on Simon to face Cilla. ‘He’s so annoying,’ she whispered in a conciliatory tone, making Tam want to laugh out loud.
‘I’m right here, I can still hear you,’ Simon replied. Marg ignored him. They were all sitting around the campfire, digesting their meagre meal of boiled rice and seaweed, with a little coconut milk to add a hint of flavour.
‘What food do you miss the most, Cilla?’ Marg asked. Tam’s gaze slipped towards Cilla, noticing her give a shrug and then wince, as if her shoulders ached. Which they probably did if they felt anything like his did after the effort they’d put into paddling that canoe today.
‘I miss a lot of things,’ her heard her say. Tam returned his gaze to the sun-bright coals of the fire. He liked the sound of her voice in the dark. It was light and serene, like a gentle sea breeze flowing over him. ‘I do love Jelly Babies though. I always have a packet or a jar of them around somewhere when I’m on my boat.’
‘Hmm, they’re okay I guess,’ said Marg, not sounding overly impressed. She leant over so she could peer past Cilla, trying to make out Tam’s form in the firelight. ‘What about you, Tam? What’s your favourite food, eh?’
Uh oh, now Marg had him fixed in her sharp gaze, catching him unaware. ‘Hmm, that’s a harder question to answer than you might think,’ he replied. ‘I have quite a few favourites, coffee being one of my top ten, same as you.’ Cilla canted her head on to the side watching him, curiosity in her eyes as she rested her chin on the top of her knees. In the orange glow of the fire, her eyes were dark and unreadable, her steady gaze unnerving, making him lose his train of thought.
‘Umm, I ah …’ he stumbled over his words. Godammit, this was an easy question, he’d been day-dreaming about the foods he missed just this morning. It was her eyes. That’s what was making him fumble. Drawing in a deep breath, he started again. ‘I really love a good turkey leg, or even a humble corn dog.’ There were groans of approval from the others sitting around the fire. ‘But if I had to pin it down to just one thing, and because I work with the kids at Disneyland, it would be … a Peanut Butter Heaven.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Marg. No one else said a word as they waited to hear what this delight entailed.
‘It’s a peanut butter sandwich, dipped in chocolate. The kids absolutely love it, and it really is one-hundred times better than just a peanut butter sandwich on its own.’
‘Do you mean completely covered in chocolate?’ asked Paloma in a breathy murmur, her eyes pinpoints of light in the dark.
‘It sounds awesome,’ chimed in Marg, in equal awe.
‘Hang on, did you just say you work at Disneyland?’ Cilla turned to face him. ‘I’ve never been to Disneyland.’ Of course she would be the one to pick up on the hint he’d just given. Everyone else was still drooling over peanut butter and chocolate, but she was staring at him with open-mouthed incredulity. He lifted his left eyebrow in wry amusement. ‘Do normal people work at Disneyland, really?’ she asked, and he could tell she was intrigued.
‘Yes I do. Does that surprise you?’
‘I guess it does,’ she admitted.
‘I’m a child clinical psychologist,’ he said. ‘I do most of my work with disadvantaged kids.’
‘Really?’ Simon let out a snort of disbelief.
Ignoring Simon, Cilla said, ‘Doing what?’ That slightly surprised tone was still there, giving away the fact she found it hard to reconcile him, the big brawny guy, dealing with the serious business of helping children.
‘I spend a lot of time running around Disneyland, eating Peanut Butter Heavens and flying around on the Dumbo ride, chaperoning groups of kids. Giving them a good time. Something most of them have never experienced before. But I’m also trying to help them deal with the blows life might’ve dealt them. There is method to my madness. A proven theory behind the way we use fun to help the kids open up.’
‘Wow, peel back the layers and it’s amazing what you find,’ said Marg. ‘You’re an interesting man, Tam Connor.’ The tone of Marg’s voice was soft, evaluating, weighing up this new information about him. He saw the same sentiments echoed in Cilla’s gaze.
Maybe he’d said too much, given away more information than he should. But then, working with disadvantaged kids was a fulfilling job, one he was proud of. The long slog to get through his Degree to finally become a child psychologist had definitely been worth it, and he couldn’t wait to see those excited little faces again, watch their eyes light up as he told them all about his escapades on a deserted island. He was determined to make it as far as possible in this game, so he could go back home with his head held high and tell them he’d done it all for them. He’d tell them that whenever he’d felt like giving in he would think about them all; about Tommy who was abandoned on the street by his mother when he was only two, or Angel who was seven and lived in a one room hovel with her drunken father. Their fortitude spurred him on.
‘That’s one of the reasons I came on Sea-Quest. To collect stories to tell the kids when I get back home.’ Tam kept his tone light, deflecting Marg’s new-found respect.
‘Yeah, give over, Tam. You’re here for the money just like the rest of us. Tell us your secret, the real reason you’re here,’ said Simon, his voice rough with disdain. Tam curled his fists together in front of him, holding back the sudden hot surge of ang
er at Simon’s tactless comment. He saw Cilla shoot a glare of dislike at Simon through the dark.
Swallowing the resentful words on the tip of his tongue, Tam managed to control himself, saying instead, ‘Of course I’m here for the money.’ He kept his voice smooth, showing no outward sign of chagrin. ‘I want to use it to build a bigger clinic. There are so many other kids out there who need our help.’
Cilla twitched next to him on the sand, and he decided it was time to change the subject.
‘As long as we’re giving up some of our secrets, tell me exactly what it is that you do, Cilla? I know you said you sail boats for a living, but that’s quite a broad spectrum,’ he said, smoothly deflecting further questions away from himself.
Starting, as if caught off-guard, she mumbled, ‘Well … I do just about anything that encompasses sailing a boat.’ Raising her hands, palm upward she seemed to grapple for the words to explain her gypsy lifestyle. ‘I do things like skipper a charter boat for people who can’t sail it themselves.’
‘Give us an example,’ Marg encouraged from Cilla’s other side.
‘Okay. I’ve spent the last year working in the Whitsunday Islands, off the Queensland coast of Australia, for a charter boat company. People want an idyllic holiday, floating around on a yacht, drifting from island to island. But a lot of them have no idea how to actually sail. That’s where I come in. My official title is Sailguide, but I also sometimes double up as a kind of hostess, cooking their food, cleaning the boat, that kind of thing.’
‘What size boats are we talking?’ Tam asked. She sure did live differently from anybody else he knew.
‘Anything from a thirty-one footer right up to a luxury fifty-foot catamaran.’
