Red Rocks

by King, Rachael

  He thought about the selkie story Dad had told him by the fire that night. What had he said about the fisherman? That he had hidden the skin in a chest in the cellar, under the house, and the wife had never known it was right beneath her the whole time.

  Jake opened the front door and walked around the small house, looking for a door to the cellar. It didn’t take him long to work out that the cottage didn’t even have a cellar. It was sitting close to the ground on concrete foundations and there was nothing but a narrow space of dirt under the house.

  He looked up at the writing shed. Surely it must be there? He ran up the narrow track and tried the door. Locked of course. He looked in the window and thought about smashing it to try and get in, but then if it wasn’t there, his dad would figure out what he was up to and it could spoil his plans to find the skin. He’d just have to take his time. He could see his dad’s computer sitting on the desk, untidy stacks of paper teetering beside it. Dad said his deadline had come and gone, so he should be working night and day on his book, and yet, here it was, sitting alone while its author was out. How could Dad earn any money if he didn’t finish his book? Jake felt the stab of guilt again — it was his fault that Cara had entered their lives.

  Jake searched the rest of the house. He munched on an apple as he looked through the kitchen cupboards, then moved on to the cupboard in the hallway, under the couch, and finally, up the chimney. His hands came away blackened, and when he went to wash them in the bathroom he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Soot marked his face and his eyes were red from crying. The bare bulb hung above his head, casting sharp shadows. He looked like a ghost.

  He had just finished washing and drying his face when he heard the front door open and footsteps in the hall.

  ‘He’s not home,’ he heard his father say. ‘His bike’s not here.’

  A soft, tinkling laugh, and Jake felt ice in his veins. He shivered. His hands were frozen to the basin and as he stared at his face in the mirror he saw it go pale. What should he do? Pretend he wasn’t there, and see what they did, what they talked about? Or tell them he was home?

  The voices moved into the living room and through to the kitchen, where he could barely hear them. He breathed steadily but quickly, paralysed by indecision. He really didn’t want to see Cara. After all, she’d had some kind of spell over him before — what if she still did? Should he go out there and tell her that Dad had the skin, just to get rid of her? But no. Jessie had warned him that she could get angry. He had seen what Jessie could do when she was angry, and he imagined Cara would be much stronger. Then a chilling thought hit him — he had just compared Jessie to Cara, as though Jessie were a younger, smaller version of her aunt. Could this mean …?

  He pushed the thought away. He refused to believe that Jessie was anything other than a normal little girl. But when he closed his eyes to gather himself, he saw Jessie’s dark eyes and sharp little teeth, her strange immunity to the cold, the way she didn’t seem to mind being wet. Her borrowed clothes. So many things were adding up now in his head that he wanted to yell to shut them out. But he didn’t want his dad to know that he was home. Instead, he decided to sneak out, to get away from Cara.

  Music had started up in the kitchen. Jake had never heard his dad listen to modern music — just the drone of the radio: the talking kind, or boring classical music. He risked a peek around the door of the living room and through to the kitchen. He could see movement in there, and hear laughter, from both of them.

  ‘How long can you stay?’ His father’s voice was raised over the music.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Cara.

  ‘Forever, I hope!’ said Dad with a soppy tone, and Jake winced.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, but quietly, and Jake could have been mistaken.

  Suddenly they burst through into the lounge, dancing. Cara was in Dad’s arms at first, then she was being spun around, twirling like a ballet dancer, with the skirt of her flower-print dress ballooning around her. Dad’s eyes were fixed on her, and one thought flashed into Jake’s head: I’ve never seen him look so happy. He was so astonished he forgot that he was supposed to be hiding. As the couple danced, Jake took in the rest of the room. Spread all over the couch were shopping bags, some with food spilling out — wine, chocolate, springy tufts of celery and a stick of French bread — and others with the names of fashion stores emblazoned in gold letters on the side. He looked again at Cara and realised that if he had passed her on the street he might not have recognised her. Her dirty coat was gone, and over her flowery dress she wore a bright red cardigan. Her feet, for the first time since Jake had known her, had shoes on them, which were silver. Her hair, instead of sticking out wildly around her face, was pulled back into a ponytail, making her appear smaller, more … human.

  Jake felt sick. They looked so perfect, alone together. Why would his dad want him around any more while Cara was there? He would only get in the way. He stepped back into the hall without being seen. Every muscle in his body felt rigid. He wanted to punch the wall. He went right up to it, fists ready.

  Then he stopped. He realised that he could get angry, could run away even, but that he had got himself into this mess and it was up to him to do something about it. Clearly she had Dad under some kind of spell. What else would explain the shopping bags, the expensive-looking shoes on her feet? Dad didn’t have any money. It was a struggle for him just to afford Jake’s airfare down from Auckland; Jake’s mother had paid for half of it. And yet here he was, buying Cara fancy new clothes and expensive food. Jake had to do something.

  He turned away from the wall, and gasped. Cara was standing in the hallway, looking at him calmly. She was fixing him with those dark eyes, and Jake felt himself falling into them. He looked away quickly, before she caught him up in her magic.

  ‘Hello, Jake.’ Her voice was low and quiet, like distant waves. She came towards him and reached out. Her hand alighted on his bare arm. Her skin was cool and slightly damp and he looked down, alarmed to see thick blue webbing between her fingers.

  ‘Is that Jake?’ His father’s voice came from the living room, and Cara dropped Jake’s arm and stepped away from him. Dad’s head popped around the door. ‘You’re home early.’ He didn’t look too happy about it. ‘We were just going to start cooking some dinner. Why don’t you go to the movies? I think one’s due to start soon — that one you wanted to see.’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Jake.

  Dad came towards him, rifling through his pocket. ‘Not really a request, mate,’ he said. He pulled out a twenty-dollar note and handed it over. ‘Off you go. You can bike down. I’ll pick you up after since it’ll be dark by then.’

  Jake took the money and pushed past them, head down. He didn’t really want to hang around them anyway, watching them be all lovey-dovey. But once he was outside he remembered that his bike had been stolen. He didn’t want to tell his dad in case he got mad — who knew how he would react? His father just wasn’t himself at the moment, and Jake didn’t want to risk provoking him, so he set off to Island Bay on foot in the dying afternoon light.

  15

  Of course he was late to the movie, so he sat in the blackness, not following the story and unable to concentrate on it anyway. Giant robots screeched and crunched their way across the screen but he couldn’t work out if they were meant to be good or evil. Maybe they were neither — or both. His arm was still throbbing and he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back over the day’s awful events: the scrape of his hand on the gravel and the sting of his bike being stolen; his fruitless search through the dusty house; the look on his dad’s face when he was with Cara.

  It was dark when he came out. The days were still so short at this time of year. His stomach growled despite the packet of nuts he’d eaten. There was no sign of Dad’s car, so he stood near the road and waited. Moviegoers, heading in for the next session, stepped around him.

  ‘You okay?’ asked one woman.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ he said. ‘
Just waiting for my dad.’

  The woman looked concerned, but said nothing more and disappeared into the cinema. The crowd thinned and evaporated, and Jake was left standing alone, still waiting. He was cold and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  Finally, one of the theatre staff, a tall young guy with dreadlocks, came out to where he stood.

  ‘Do you need to call someone?’ he asked. His face was kind but Jake couldn’t remember his dad’s number, so he shook his head and thanked him.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’ Jake’s voice sounded much brighter than he felt. On the inside he was worried Dad had forgotten him altogether. He kicked a nearby lamppost. It was bad enough that his father didn’t want to live in the same city as him, even though Jake had practically begged him to come to Auckland when he was younger. But at least Dad usually tried to make Jake feel special when he was visiting, despite often being so busy writing. Now he couldn’t even remember to pick his own son up from the movies. Jake was just contemplating stomping home in the dark, which he didn’t relish, when Dad’s dented old car pulled up. Dad beeped the horn, even though Jake had seen him and was already moving towards the curb.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ said Dad. His voice was vigorous but he didn’t really sound remorseful. ‘Lost track of time. Hope you didn’t have to wait too long.’

  Jake said nothing and scrunched angrily down in his seat as they drove away.

  ‘Hey,’ said Dad. ‘Where’s your bike?’ He stopped the car. ‘We can’t leave it there overnight.’ He was just about to pull a U-turn, and Jake realised he’d have to tell him.

  ‘No, stop.’ He put his hand on Dad’s arm. ‘I haven’t got it. Some kids nicked it.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you say so?’ He switched the engine off and turned to look at Jake. ‘What happened?’

  Jake gave him the censored version of the day, the version he had gone over in his head at the movies. He told him about the boys but not about his conversation with Jessie or the hunt for the sealskin. ‘And I hurt my arm.’ He held it out. His wrist was nicely bruised now and a warm feeling spread through him when he saw how worried his dad looked as he took it gently in his hands.

  ‘Right,’ said Dad. ‘I’m calling the police when we get home. Those little gangsters aren’t getting away with this. Mate, why didn’t you tell me before?’

  Jake realised that the story had given Dad a shock — the aura of enchantment around him had slipped and Jake had been able to wriggle his way back in. Now was his chance.

  ‘Because Cara’s got you all … weird!’ he blurted. ‘I thought you’d be mad. Or you wouldn’t care.’ He didn’t know which was worse.

  ‘Hey!’ said Dad. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is she your girlfriend or something now? You bought her all that stuff. You can’t afford it. Mum told me you don’t have any money.’

  Dad paused, weighing up his words carefully. ‘Cara’s special, Jake. She needs looking after. She doesn’t have any money or anywhere to live. We have to be kind to her. She doesn’t deserve to be homeless. Nobody does.’

  ‘So, what, is she moving in with you?’

  Dad sighed. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. It’s grown-up stuff.’

  ‘But I do understand. It’s just what happened with Mum. Greg moved in, and now there’s a baby.’

  Dad laughed but he didn’t look amused. ‘Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, eh?’

  ‘Do you love her?’

  ‘What kind of a question is that?’

  ‘Do you love her?’

  Dad ran a hand through his thick hair and looked at Jake with serious eyes. ‘Yes, Jake, I love her.’

  ‘I knew it.’ The magic had enveloped his father. There was no way he could love someone like that after just meeting her. Jake had to do something. He took a deep breath.

  ‘I know what she is, Dad. I know you took her skin and hid it so she’d stay with you.’

  Dad put his hands on the steering wheel and stared at them. ‘Do you now?’

  ‘You have to give the skin back, or …’

  ‘Or what, Jake? Or she’ll stay with me? I’ll be happy? Is that so bad?’

  ‘You said yourself, in the story you told me. She won’t rest until she’s found it. She’ll just wander around all the time, looking for it.’ Jake dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘And then she’ll die.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish,’ said Dad, swatting the air between them. ‘I know what this is, Jake. You’re jealous. And I can understand that, with everything that’s happened with your mum. But this is what I want.’

  ‘I am not jealous,’ said Jake, but he was lying.

  ‘Besides,’ said Dad. ‘She loves me too. It wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference if I gave her the skin. Which, I might add, is just a fairy story — you said so yourself. She’d stay with me anyway.’

  ‘Well, prove it, then!’ said Jake. ‘Give it back and see what happens.’

  ‘Maybe I will.’ Dad started up the car again and shifted it roughly into gear. They drove home in an angry silence.

  *

  Jake woke with a start the next morning, realising he’d lost track of the days. It was Saturday. That meant he was leaving tomorrow, flying back up to Auckland. He only had today to make things right! Cara hadn’t been there when they got home from the movies, and Jake and his dad didn’t mention her again. Dad had called the police, as he said he would, but they had said there wasn’t much they could do, and that Jake and his dad should keep an eye out in case the bike showed up somewhere. Jake had eaten his dinner, then gone to bed. Later, he’d heard the front door click open and light footsteps going past his room.

  Sure enough, when he got up, Cara was sitting at the table with Dad, their heads together as they drank tea. Jake slipped past them into the kitchen without saying anything, and stood at the bench while he waited for his toast to cook. Dad came up behind him and pressed the button to re-boil the kettle.

  ‘You off out today?’ he asked. He sounded hopeful.

  Jake’s stomach dropped. His last day before heading back to Mum, Greg and the baby, and his dad was trying to get rid of him. Things were bad. ‘Yeah,’ said Jake. Then, whispering: ‘So have you given it back to her?’

  ‘Shh!’ said Dad, and grabbed Jake’s sore wrist, roughly.

  ‘Ow!’ Jake knew the sound of the kettle coming to the boil would drown out his voice, so he said boldly: ‘Where is it, Dad?’

  But his dad just frowned and shook his head, and Jake realised then that he would never tell, because deep down his father knew that Cara would leave him as soon as it was in her strange webbed hands.

  16

  Even without his bike, it didn’t take a long time to get out to Ted’s cottage to find Jessie. The knot in Jake’s stomach made him walk fast, jog even, and his sense of urgency increased as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Tomorrow he would be back on a plane, and who knew what would happen once he was gone? His only hope was getting Jessie to help him.

  She came running to meet him when the shack came into sight.

  ‘I knew you would come,’ she said. ‘You did not find it, did you? I saw Cara last night.’

  ‘Did you say something to her?’

  ‘No, of course not! I said I would not.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said that she had not found the skin and that she was preparing to make a life in human form, at least for the time being. That she had found someone to take care of her better than Ted can.’

  Jake sat down on the ground. He knew it. He drew his knees up and put his head in his arms.

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  He felt a cool hand on his shoulder. Jessie was trying to comfort him.

  ‘We must find it today. We will ask Ted to help.’

  Ted sat by the fire, drinking a mug of tea and doing a crossword puzzle in a book. He put it to one side when he saw the look on Jake’s face. Jake wondered how much Ted knew about what had be
en going on.

  It was as if Ted had read his mind. He stood up, nodding. ‘Ah, young fella. You’ve got that look about you. It’s Cara, isn’t it? She’s got a hold of your dad.’

  Jake bit back tears and nodded.

  ‘He found the skin? At the rocks?’

  Jake blushed. ‘No, it was me. I hid it. I didn’t know she was a selkie. Not until Jessie told me, but even then I didn’t believe her.’ He felt ashamed of himself. ‘Then when I tried to bring it back, Dad stopped me. And by then he’d fallen in love with Cara and it was too late. He’s got it. He’s hidden it somewhere.’ He heard the misery in his own voice.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ said Ted.

  ‘Why is it your fault?’

  ‘I had no idea that you had the skin, boy. It’s my job to keep them safe. If I’d known I would’ve warned you, so I would. And I wouldn’t have let Cara meet your dad. No, you should have told me. At least, Jessie should have told me when she knew.’

  Jessie looked at her feet, but said nothing.

  Jake spread his hands in front of him. ‘What can we do? I can’t find the skin. Jessie says we can’t tell her he has it.’

  ‘No,’ said Ted quickly, ‘you mustn’t do that. Look, sit down, boy. I’ve got something you should hear.’

  ‘But I don’t have time! We have to find the skin!’

  ‘Just sit. This might help you. Come on.’ He took Jake by the arm and guided him to the bed. Next, he went to the bookcase and picked up the photograph Jake had seen last time he was here — the portrait with the woman and two girls. He handed it to Jake.

  ‘Do you know who these people are?’

  ‘I thought they might be relations of yours.’

  Ted nodded. ‘My wife, actually. And my two daughters.’

  Jake was shocked. He hadn’t thought of Ted having a wife — he seemed like someone who had been alone his whole life. Of course, Jessie had said she was his granddaughter and Cara his daughter, but he had decided early on this was just one of her lies. Besides, neither of the girls in the photo was Cara.