In the kitchen, a small sliver of glass pierced one of his bare feet, and the floor was sticky and damp, but other than that the broken glass and crockery had been swept away. The cupboard doors had either been screwed back on or taken away completely, revealing empty, clean shelves. It was as if his father had tried to scrub away the memory of what Cara had done.
Dad appeared at the back door as Jake was eating his toast. He came in and started washing his hands at the sink. ‘I thought you might want to go and say goodbye to Jessie and Ted before we go,’ he said. ‘There’s time if we hurry.’
Jake thought about it for a moment. The whole thing felt like a bad dream, especially now that he was rushing to pack and get away on time, just as he had to do at the end of every holiday. He would return to Auckland, and nobody there would ever believe what had happened to him. Part of him wanted to leave without looking back, to just forget the events of yesterday and the trouble he had caused. But none of it was Jessie or Ted’s fault.
‘Sure,’ he said.
‘Great,’ said Dad. ‘I’ll finish up here. The car’s unlocked. Go and put your bag in and I’ll be down in a minute.’
Jake looked at his father’s back as he cleaned up and wondered if they would talk about what had happened. At the moment, his father seemed to be concentrating hard on trying to forget, to erase all traces of Cara, so Jake was surprised Dad wanted to go anywhere near Red Rocks.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you worried you might see Cara?’
Dad turned around, drying his hands on a tea towel. ‘You’re pretty smart, you know that? Actually, I was thinking of waiting in the car.’ He reached out a hand as if to ruffle Jake’s hair, then appeared to change his mind. ‘I swear you’ve grown since you’ve been here,’ he said. ‘You’ll be taller than me in no time. I’d better watch out!’
Outside, Jake opened the boot of Dad’s car and heaved his bag into it. As he slammed it shut, he felt something nudging the back of his legs.
‘Heel, Sam!’ came a voice, and Jake turned around to see a grey-haired man with a cloth cap on his head, and at the end of the lead in his hand, snuffling around Jake’s feet, the Golden Lab from down the road.
Jake crouched down and rubbed the dog’s ears. ‘Hey, boy,’ he said.
The man smiled and waited while Jake patted his dog. ‘He obviously likes you.’
Jake stared into the dog’s trusting brown eyes and felt a stab of guilt. He stood up and looked the owner in the face, resisting the urge to hang his head.
‘I saw some boys teasing him a while ago,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you.’
‘Ah, those little thugs,’ said the man. ‘They just about choked the neighbour’s dog yesterday. Don’t worry, they got caught. The police even got involved. Those kids won’t be hurting any animals again in a hurry. And don’t worry, Sam here’s still as happy as a clam. No real harm done.’
Sam’s tongue was hanging out and he was looking at Jake expectantly. What was going on behind those soft eyes? Suddenly, Jake got the certain feeling the dog had forgiven him, that they understood each other. After all, they’d both been on the receiving end of the bullying and survived. And Jake had stood up to the boys eventually. Maybe he’d even be able to stand up to the bullies at school next term. He certainly felt ready for them. He gave the dog a last pat and it trotted off with its owner towards the beach.
It was hard to believe it was nearly two weeks ago that he’d first encountered Mark and Dan. And yet, how was it only two weeks ago? So much had happened, he felt as though he’d been here for months. And Jessie had grown so much — it was as if years had passed. He felt older himself. Not a little kid any more.
‘Right, we’re off.’ The front door banged behind Dad. He had put on a clean shirt and was a different man from the one who had hunched on the couch last night. Only the wound on his cheek was left as an outward reminder.
Jake turned and looked back at the little cottage, at his father’s writing shed, with its boarded-up window, peeking over the top. He never knew where Dad would be living each time he came; he moved around a lot. He hoped it would be this place, but for all he knew it could be miles away.
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ said Dad, as though reading his mind. ‘I’ve been offered a new place, cheaper rent. I wasn’t going to take it, but now I think the change will do me good. It’s in Paremata. You’ll love it. I’ve got a boat shed to write in. If the dinghy can be fixed, we can take it and go fishing there, too.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘No seals there, though.’
Jake just nodded and got into the car. He had learned not to get too attached to his father’s houses. He hoped Dad wouldn’t be too lonely without him, but he didn’t know how to say it out loud.
The car rolled into the car park near Ted’s, and Jake got out. His whole body was sore and scraped from his adventures, and he was looking forward to having a rest to let his wounds heal. The cliffs looked huge today, and the wind was up again, churning the grey sky. This is how he would always remember the road out to Red Rocks — windswept and sullen.
He started walking away, but Dad’s door opened suddenly.
‘Wait!’ he called. ‘I’ll come with you. Not sure I can trust you to be back on time.’ As his father laid a hand on his shoulder, Jake wondered if, after everything that had happened, Dad still wanted to protect him and was just making an excuse to accompany him. Or maybe he really did want to risk seeing Cara and was using Jake to give him strength, make him brave. Either way, Jake was glad to have the company.
To catch the plane in time, they needed to set off at a brisk pace. Jake’s legs ached as he walked, and he longed to slow down. Dad took big strides, despite the fact he must have been feeling just as stiff as Jake was after the events of the previous day. Together, they ignored their pain and marched onwards.
Jake’s eyes searched the clumps of kelp and the foamy sea for a sign of the seals, but there were none that he could see. He couldn’t help noticing that Dad did the same.
They passed the wreckage of Jake’s bike as they walked along the road.
‘Don’t worry,’ said his dad, ‘I’ll have it fixed up good as new for the next time you come down.’
Smoke rolled from the chimney of Ted’s hut and up towards the cliffs. Ted took a long time to open the door, and when he did he looked as though he had been asleep. His eyes were bleary and he had new creases on his face. Jake remembered how easy it had been to doze off on that little bed by the wood stove. Ted looked at them blankly for a moment, then his face brightened and he cracked a wide smile, showing his broken yellowed teeth.
‘Am I glad to see you!’
Dad took a surprised step backwards as Ted rushed forward with his fingers outstretched. The two men shook hands, Ted clasping Dad’s with both of his own. Jake saw understanding dawn on his father’s face: that here was a man who had loved a selkie and lost her, along with his children. Dad hadn’t believed the story when Jake had told him, but Jake realised that deep down his father now knew it to be true. Dad’s whole body relaxed, and for a moment the haunted look bubbled to the surface again while Ted pumped his hand up and down.
‘Thank you,’ said Dad. ‘Just … thank you.’
Jake smiled to himself. It was as if the two men had told each other their life stories without ever exchanging a word.
‘Is Jessie here?’ he asked.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Ted, letting go of Dad’s hand and shuffling back with a sigh.
The room looked much the same as the last time Jake saw it. Shabby, with frayed and mended furniture, and every surface covered, but Jake could see now that the place was tidy and well cared for in its own way. It always smelt fresh and clean despite the age and condition of the house. The ever-present rack of clothes was drying by the fire. Jake could see the shorts and jersey Jessie had been wearing, and also the old overcoat Cara had worn. Dad seemed about to speak, but closed his mouth when he spo
tted the coat. He stared at it for a few seconds before tearing his gaze away.
Ted gestured around the room. ‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘Jessie’s not here.’
Jake flicked a glance at his father, then said, ‘Will you go and get her?’
‘No, young fella,’ said Ted. ‘I can’t do that, not today. She’s gone home as well. She might be back next year, she might not.’
‘Oh, what a pity,’ said Dad. ‘I’m sorry we missed her.’ He laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. ‘Maybe Jake can come and visit her next year. We’re moving away, but it might be possible.’
It was at that moment that Jake realised his father had no idea what Jessie was. If he knew, Jake didn’t think he would let him be friends with her any more, not after what had happened with Cara.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ted. ‘I reckon she might have changed by then. You know how kids are. They grow up so fast.’ Ted winked at Jake, who felt himself blushing.
‘Well, all right, Ted,’ said Dad. ‘We’ll leave you to it. I might see you sometime if this idea gets off the ground for my book, the one about the south coast. I’ll have to talk to my publishers about it, of course. They’re pretty fickle.’ He sighed. ‘Although I’m having second thoughts about it myself. Maybe it’s best not to examine things too closely, eh?’
‘That’s true,’ said Ted, smiling his raggedy smile.
Jake forced a smile back and took a last look around the cosy cottage. Would he ever see it, or Ted, again? He wished he’d had a chance to see Jessie one last time. Even if she returned next year, she would be grown up, while he would still be stuck as a kid. That was just too crazy to think about.
On the way back to the car, Dad hoisted the bike onto his shoulders. The waves washed the stones, and Jake thought back to that first day, when it sounded as if the water and the rocks were carrying on a conversation, telling each other stories of what they’d seen.
‘You okay?’ asked Dad.
‘Yeah,’ said Jake. ‘I wanted to say goodbye to her, but that’s okay.’
As he said it, he heard a splashing sound coming from the water.
‘Well, someone’s come to say goodbye to you, anyway,’ said Dad, looking alarmed at first, then relaxing. ‘I wonder if it’s the one we saw when we were out fishing?’
Jake looked: a seal danced in the water beside them.
‘I think it is.’ As he spoke, the seal launched itself in the air, spiralled around and disappeared. When it emerged again, moments later, it rolled onto its side and raised a flipper, as if in a wave. Jake waved back and smiled.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to Creative New Zealand for a ‘quick response’ grant, which enabled me to write with two small children. Thanks to the following people for helpful feedback at various stages: Tania Roxborogh, Pippi Priestley-King & Rebecca Priestley, James Gracewood-Easther and Ros Henry (otherwise known as Mum); my wonderful (and tireless) agents, Vivien Green and Gaia Banks; the fabulous team at Random House New Zealand, in particular Jenny Hellen, for her boundless support, patience and enthusiasm; editor Jolisa Gracewood, especially for taking queries at midnight before the final manuscript was due; Peter Rutherford for moral support and incredibly insightful creative input, and my children, Tom and AJ Rutherford, who have always been the readers I had in mind while writing this book, despite only being aged five and two when I finished it. Finally I’d like to thank a place: the windy, wonderful south coast of Wellington, where I have done some of my best and most important thinking, and where I walked as a new mother with a baby and was bowled over by the unexpected idea for the story of Red Rocks.
About the Author
Rachael King is the author of two novels for adults: Magpie Hall and The Sound of Butterflies, which won the award for the best first novel at the 2007 Montana Book Awards and was published in ten languages. The idea for Red Rocks came to her as she walked her first baby son around Wellington’s wild south coast and thought it a place where magic could happen. Now with two sons, she wanted to write down the story for them and is thrilled to share it with other children as well. In 2008 Rachael was the Ursula Bethell Writer in Residence at Canterbury University, and she has lived in Christchurch ever since.
Copyright
The assistance of Creative New Zealand is gratefully acknowledged by the author and publisher.
A RANDOM HOUSE BOOK published by Random House New Zealand
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First published 2012
© 2012 Rachael King
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ISBN 978 1 86979 915 1
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Cover design: Area Design
Text design: Megan van Staden
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