by Denis Martin
“I dunno what you said to him, but he’s telling everyone he’s going to beat the shit out of you.”
She turned away again, eyes drifting across the water. I wanted to ask her what else she’d heard. Specially about me. But I didn’t. She still looked terrible, breathing heavily, her face drained of colour. So I kept my mouth shut and let her grapple with her own thoughts. It was the first time I’d heard her speak more than about three words, and I realised she was Australian. Not a strong accent – probably Sydney.
We sat together like that for ages. Silence, except for the screeching of gulls. And I could sense Kat gradually getting control of her breathing. Finally, she glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Be late for work.” She didn’t move though.
“Where do you work?”
“Gelato Heaven.”
“Scooping ice-cream?”
She nodded. “Yes. Couple of days a week.”
That made sense. She’d been heading there when I’d seen her that first time on the ferry. “Shouldn’t you call in sick?” I suggested. “You still look like death.”
“No, I’m fine. And thanks for the water.” But still she didn’t make a move.
Another long pause, and then she muttered something.
“Pardon?”
She didn’t look at me. She was gazing across the estuary – but I didn’t think she was focused on anything. “That car … it was horrible.” She swallowed and her whole body quivered. “My … someone I knew was killed in a car fire. My … dad. It was my dad. A car just like that …”
I wanted to put my arm around her. To comfort her. But I was too chicken.
And then I lost my chance. She was on her feet and moving away quickly, almost breaking into a run, but unsteadily. I wanted to follow her, but her body language told me to stay where I was. She’d blown me away. If her father had died in a car fire, I could understand why she was so upset.
But then, who the hell was Bullyboy?
CHAPTER FOUR
Jed was waiting to pick me up from the ferry. Lounging against his ute and dragging on a fag that didn’t smell much like tobacco. Dad’s MX-5 was at the dealers in Thames, waiting to have a new hood fitted. One that didn’t dribble cold trickles down his neck when it rained. So for a while we were without wheels of our own.
After a few dark mutterings about the benefits of walking, Dad had relented and agreed to let me hitch a ride with Jed each day. I’d been expecting to ride pillion, but somehow Jed had managed to buckle the front wheel of his motorbike so he was using the battered old ute. A bit different from Dad’s little sports car, but probably more comfortable. Squeezing into the MX-5 was a bit like climbing into a dwarf’s wetsuit. With the dwarf still in it.
“I suppose you stopped to have a look at the fire?” Jed slipped the ute into gear as he spoke. “Join all the other rubbernecks.”
“Yeah. Not a pretty sight. You been over to see it?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Everyone’s talking about it though. Getting their kicks outta someone else’s misery.”
“They reckon someone saw a couple of kids running off just before it happened.”
“I heard that too.” He took his eyes off the road and gave me a lopsided grin. “But no one seems to know exactly who saw them. If it turns out to be arson, and I was the cops, I’d be taking a pretty close look at who’s telling the story. Reckon they’re dreaming if they think it was the kids who’ve been torching all the rubbish bins. It’s a mighty big jump from a bin to a house.”
I turned to him with surprise. “I thought I was the only one wondering about that. So what do you think?”
He shrugged. “Not sure … could’ve been an accident or maybe someone trying to cash in their insurance. But I don’t reckon it was kids. Either way, I bet we won’t see any more bins going up for a while – those kids’ll be running scared.”
Up ahead, an old Holden slithered around the corner towards us. It was travelling much too fast and Jed swung the ute onto the gravel verge to let it through, loose stones pinging against the underside of the ute. “Bloody roadhog,” he muttered, easing us back onto the road. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else. You on for a bit of fishing? How about Saturday? Thought I’d take the boat out.”
“Hey, that sounds great.”
“See if we can hook a snapper or two. I could pick you up about six. Have breakfast when we get back.”
“Fantastic.” I was looking forward to it. Hadn’t been in a boat for ages, and fresh fish is much better than the stuff you get out of the freezer.
I’d been hoping I could get to know Kat a bit better now, maybe even go out with her. But she kicked that notion in the teeth next morning on the ferry. As I plonked myself opposite her, she glanced up and unplugged one ear from her iPod. Then she reached into her bag for a water bottle, holding it out to me. “Here. It’s a new one. Thanks for letting me have yours.”
I took it from her, and she gave me a tiny nod. But that was the extent of it. Before I could say anything, her eyes had closed down like a blank screen and she’d turned away. Just sat there with an expression of total emptiness, her iPod ramped up hard. And I was very definitely excluded.
As soon as the ferry berthed, she took the long way to school, striding off through town. I thought about following her, but I wasn’t brave enough. And I knew I’d look pretty silly.
In any case, I knew I’d be seeing a bit more of her at school. They’d discovered I could count without using my fingers and put me in a higher maths group. My new teacher was Mr Parton, the secretary’s husband, and he seemed to be really good. And even better, Kat was in the same group – though she always sat with a couple of swotty girls at the front. I sat over by the window.
Another good thing, Burger obviously couldn’t count much beyond ten. Even barefoot I reckoned he’d stop short at twenty – so he was still doing the cabbage course. Being moved out of his class was a relief – Kat had been right. He did intend to beat the shit out of me at the first opportunity. And the fewer opportunities, the better. Wished I hadn’t got him quite so steamed up, but Simon assured me it was nothing personal. Any new kid at school was given the same treatment – unless they bowed down and grovelled. After all, his surname was King.
That afternoon Jed was waiting to take me home again. He was in a hurry, and I remembered it was Thursday. Benefit day for the unemployed and payday for heaps of others.
“Come on.” He grinned. “Shift your arse. Valuable drinking time I’m wasting.” I could picture all the other dole bludgers and layabouts lined up at the bar. Come to think of it, Dad was probably there too.
He might’ve been rushing it, but he still decided to stop when he saw Kat. She was pushing her bike up the hill from the jetty, and he pulled in just in front of her, sticking his head out the window. “Hey, gorgeous!”
I sat there, watching her face in the side mirror. Waiting for the polar blast.
But she smiled. She actually smiled.
Jed was already out of the cab. “Sling your bike in the back, and I’ll give you a lift home.”
They obviously knew each other and seemed to be chatting easily as Jed took the bike from her and lifted it onto the ute. She was grinning at something he’d said as she opened the cab door. Then she saw me and did a double take. I thought she was going to back away, but she didn’t. A quick recovery, a half-smile and a questioning glance at Jed, and then she climbed in beside me.
“You two know each other? Should do. Same school, and you’re practically neighbours.”
“Yeah, we’ve met,” I said, and Kat nodded. The smile had gone though. She was biting her lower lip.
Neither of us was talking much, but Jed didn’t seem to notice – he was too busy rabbiting on about the rough day he’d had fixing up some old lady’s plumbing. With Kat beside me, I felt like an intruder – I’d caught her yesterday with her guard down, chundering up her past, and I think she was embarrassed. She certainly wouldn’t have chosen
to cram herself into that tiny cab with me, and it made me feel awkward. However, I was enjoying the warmth of her thigh pressed against mine. It was the closest I’d ever been to her. And there had been a smile of sorts. Even if it was mostly for Jed’s benefit.
We dropped Kat at the end of an overgrown drive that curved out of sight behind a stand of massive macrocarpa. Couldn’t see a house, but there was a letterbox with a rural fire number fastened to the gatepost. It was only about a kilometre from our place, so I supposed Jed was right – we were practically neighbours.
Jed flicked his hair back over his shoulders and gave me a curious look as we drove off. “What was all that about?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Aw, come off it, Cully. She couldn’t get outta the ute fast enough.” He grinned, driving one-handed, his elbow on the window ledge. “You been coming on to her or something? Not that I’d blame you.”
“No … I just think she’s a bit shy.” I changed the subject. “How well do you know her?”
“Kat? Hardly at all really. Done a bit of work round the place for Blissy – that’s her mum. And I’ve seen Kat there once or twice. Nice kid. I wouldn’t have thought she was shy though.” He was smiling to himself as he slowed down to drop me off. “You still on for Saturday? Fishing?”
“Yeah, try and stop me.”
“Good. Enthusiasm’s an admirable trait in the young. Let’s try to make an early start.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and watched as he powered off to his watering hole.
Kat’s mum must’ve driven her to school next morning because she wasn’t on the ferry. When I bumped into her during the day, her attitude to me seemed a bit warmer. Not exactly falling all over me, but at least I was able to catch her eye. She even said hello – and that was a major improvement. I guessed she’d figured that tolerating me might be a trade-off for the occasional ride home in Jed’s ute.
Jed had the boat poised for action on Saturday morning, and we were out on the water before the night’s chill had lifted. The sun was low on the horizon, mirrored on the glass surface of the sea. No breeze yet. No haze either, and the offshore islands stood sharp against the dawn. Salt air and the tang of seaweed. Wonderful.
“Pity the pohutukawa’s not out yet.” Jed jerked his head towards the deserted beach. “Another couple of months and they’ll be a blaze of red.”
I nodded. I’d seen plenty of pohutukawa around Auckland, but here on the Coromandel they seemed to line every beach. Huge trees with tangled branches overhanging the water, roots knotted and twisted in the sand. Mum called them New Zealand’s Christmas tree – I wondered if she’d be back in time to see them flower.
“Not a bad way to start the weekend,” I said.
No fish though. Somehow they must’ve heard we were coming. The occasional nibble, but nothing on the hook. If we were wanting a seafood breakfast, a raid on the freezer might be a more cunning plan.
“They’re down there, all right,” said Jed. “Probably ought to be using this.” He rummaged around beneath his seat and pulled out a spear gun. “Ever used one?”
I shook my head, and he passed it to me. A lethal-looking alloy tube with a pistol grip at one end, but it was an awkward thing. Found myself using both hands to hold it level.
“It’s a bit easier to balance when it’s in the water,” Jed said as I handed it back. He showed me how to load it and then removed the spear before sliding it back under his seat. “I’ll take you out diving sometime and show you.” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder at the horizon. “Maybe Ohinau Island – the water’s usually clearer out there.”
“Hey, that’d be fantastic.”
“But not today. I didn’t bring any diving gear – not even a mask – so we’ll just have to be patient. I can usually get a feed with the rod.”
“So why aren’t we hooking them? The wrong bait?”
“No.” He scratched his head and grinned. “It’s an educational issue. All the stupid ones’ve been caught, and I reckon the survivors are busy sharing their wisdom. Teaching the little baby buggers how to keep clear of the nasty hooks.” He shrugged. “Bit of a bummer really.”
Sometimes I didn’t know what to make of Jed. And I didn’t want to make a dick of myself by taking him seriously. “But you usually pull in a few?”
He finished chopping himself some fresh bait and looked up. “Guess so. Usually I play it a bit smarter than this. Use lighter gear … tiny hooks … trick the little sods into going for it.” He held up the trace he’d re-baited. “These are too big – any snapper with half a brain wouldn’t go anywhere near it.”
“Then why are we … ?”
Another grin. “Too bloody impatient, I guess. With heavy gear like this you mightn’t get anything. On the other hand, anything you do get’ll be worth keeping. You spend most of your time tossing back tiddlers if the gear’s too light.” He lowered his line again and dropped the rod into one of the rod holders. Then he lay back against the bulkhead, fumbling for his cigarettes. “Who cares? It’s nice out here. Best part of the day.”
“Yeah.” I glanced around. “Sure is.” The sun was higher now, but it was still dead calm, barely a ripple on the surface. Nobody stirring ashore yet.
“How long has Kat been living here?” I asked, carefully casual. Didn’t want to seem too interested.
Hard to fool Jed though. He tossed me a sly smirk, mimicking my voice. “Not that I’m keen on her, or anything like that.” He took a drag on his cancer stick and smiled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take the piss. Um … not long. I suppose they’ve been here about three or four months. Just Kat and her mum.”
“She said her dad was killed in a car fire.”
He sat up at that. “Hell, did she? Killed?” He shook his head, frowning. “I didn’t know – Blissy’s never said anything about that. Sounds bloody awful. She wasn’t having you on?”
“Don’t think so. It’s not the kind of thing I’d be joking about. You’ve never seen her father, have you?” I was fishing to see if he knew anything about Bullyboy.
But he didn’t seem to. “No,” he said. “I had the impression her dad was still in Australia. Marital break-up … something like that.”
“So why are they in New Zealand?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Buggered if I know. They don’t seem to be in mourning or anything. You sure she told you that? A car fire?”
“Yeah.” How much should I tell him? In some ways Jed was easier to talk to than Dad. “Something else a bit weird.” I paused, wondering how to put it. “You ever come across a big guy … drives a green Ford wagon?”
“No, not that I can think of.” He flicked his fag end over the side. “Why?”
“It was just … The other day at the ferry. Kat was there. I’d seen her before, but I didn’t know who she was. Then this bloke comes up and starts hassling her. I thought he might be her father, only …” I tapered off, feeling silly. As stories go, this one seemed pretty much like finding skid marks in your grundies – not worth sharing.
But I had Jed’s attention. “What happened?”
“Not a lot really. He sort of grabbed at her … stood over her and took her by the shoulder. Like I said, hassling her. It was weird.”
“On the jetty? With everyone watching?”
“Well, there was no one else around. Except me.”
“So what did you do?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything. I mean, it was none of my business. And anyway, he could’ve been her father.”
“Except you didn’t think he was, did you?” His eyes were fixed on me, and he shook his head slowly. “So what happened then?”
“She sort of shrugged him off and jumped onto the ferry. He seemed mighty pissed off, and then he went back to his car.”
“And that’s all?” He wasn’t brushing it aside though. Seemed to be taking it seriously. Maybe too seriously – he obviously reckoned I should’ve stepped in and sorted Bullyboy out.
“Yea
h, suppose so.” But it wasn’t, was it? “No. There is a bit more. He was waiting at the ferry the next day too. Sitting in his car. It was raining, pissing down, and Kat was on her bike. He waited till she took off and then just drove past her and that’s the last I saw of him.”
“And you thought he was waiting for her?”
“Yeah, I did. Still wondered if he could be her father. But if he knows her, why didn’t he give her a lift? It was fair pissing down.”
“What does he look like?”
“Bit older than you maybe. Big guy, shoulders about a mile across.” I spread my arms to show him. “No idea who it was?”
He shook his head.
“There’s something else too.” I hesitated and then dropped my eyes. “No … you’ll just laugh.”
Another shake of the head. “No, I won’t. Go on.”
“Well, he had some kind of harness under his jacket. I thought … I thought he might be carrying a gun.” I shot him a warning glance. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing. Let’s hope we don’t come across him again. Kat too, for that matter.”
A good listener, Jed. Dad had warned me not to get too close to him, but I wasn’t so sure about that. He was easy to talk to, and I felt like I was finally struggling out from under a mountain of garbage. Any other adult would’ve laughed at me and told me to grow up and stop imagining things.
I did come across Bullyboy again though. The very next day.
CHAPTER FIVE
A school counsellor once told me I’ve got a high IQ. He must’ve been dreaming. I mean, here I was standing outside an ice-cream shop – too chicken to go inside and too soft to drag myself away. And wasting a perfectly good Sunday afternoon. It was warm, and I should’ve been on the beach. So how clever does that sound?
Kat was inside, working. The window was covered with glossy images of ice-creams, gelatos and other ninety-six per cent fat-free health foods. Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of her through the gaps. And at every glimpse I’d back away quickly, terrified she’d see me. I had to be a moron.
