‘Dad’s been driving me, but I should be fine by next week.’ The doctor had told her to rest the knee for a fortnight but she didn’t intend to follow his advice. It wasn’t just the independence she missed. Being dropped off by her father gave Leonie’s crowd additional ammunition. Even after a week they hadn’t tired of their game, this morning adding a new twist as her father had driven away: ‘Under supervision, are you, Geneva? Been caught doing something you shouldn’t?’
She also knew that driving into town twice a day took a big chunk of his time, just when the farm was hitting its busy season.
‘Is there someone you could stay with in town for a few days?’ Ms Tiedemann asked. Bingo, again, Geneva thought. Once, she’d have stayed with Kitty, but that was hardly an option now. ‘One of your friends, perhaps?’
Geneva put on her cheeriest smile and shifted her armload of books purposefully. ‘That’s an idea,’ she said.
She could feel Ms Tiedemann’s eyes on her as she walked with the smallest possible limp over to one of the study desks that were ranged along the far wall.
Opening her geography text book, Geneva buried her head and pretended to read. She’d been surprised by how lonely the fall-out with Kitty had made her feel. It wasn’t as if anything had changed: it had been the better part of a year since they stopped living their lives constantly in each other’s company. But the brief revival of that friendship — very brief, she reminded herself — had brought back memories of something Geneva found she wanted.
She’d never had close friends besides Kitty. She’d never needed them. There were plenty of girls at school she got along with, but she’d felt closed off from everyone this year. Maybe she’d isolated herself, as Kitty had suggested. Whatever spin you put on it, there was no longer any chance of a renewed friendship with Kitty. It still stung, that her one-time friend had been so quick to gossip to Leonie, turning their private argument into a public joke. Kitty didn’t participate in the baiting; by contrast, she scarcely acknowledged Geneva’s existence.
‘Which suits me just fine,’ Geneva whispered into the silence of the library, glancing up quickly to check that Ms Tiedemann hadn’t heard.
12.
‘Don’t you ever check your mobile?’ Angus asked. ‘I texted you a couple of times over the weekend.’
Geneva rolled onto her stomach and hooked her elbows over the end of the bed, the phone tucked against her shoulder.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I’m out of the habit. I mostly just carry it on the bike, for emergencies.’ When he’d told her that he and his family were going away for the weekend and asked if she had a mobile, she’d struggled to remember the number.
‘I started to wonder whether you were sending a message by not replying,’ he added.
Geneva frowned at a muddy-looking stain on the carpet. ‘No message intended. It’s just that I don’t use it much. I’ll check it out as soon as I hang up.’
‘How was your weekend?’ Angus asked, changing the subject. ‘How’s the knee?’
The weekend had been dire with her mother more vacant than ever and her father hovering awkwardly. After two days of close confinement she was short-tempered with them both and looking forward to school, despite Leonie and her crowd.
‘The sooner I’m back on the bike the better,’ she answered. ‘I went for a quick ride this morning but the dressing’s a bit of a nuisance.’
‘Didn’t your doctor say you should rest it for a fortnight?’
‘Medics,’ she murmured darkly. ‘It’s the holistic approach that matters, and my mental health will be seriously at risk if I don’t escape the family shackles soon.’
Angus laughed. ‘Tell me about it. A weekend away with the menagerie and I’m a straitjacket candidate. Adding in a household of squealing pre-pubescent cousins didn’t help.’
Geneva suspected a dose of hyperbole in Angus’s account. His little brother couldn’t be as bad as he made out and on a scale of one to ten, an over-organised mother didn’t rate more than a four in her book. But his retelling served the purpose: by the time she hung up she was feeling happier than she had in days.
She reached straightaway for her school bag, rummaging in the depths for her mobile — it was only there in the event of flat tyres, tsunamis and sundry other unlikely crises. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d turned it on. There were five messages and Geneva grinned, flipping to the first.
Wgtn wet. family reunion same. howz yr mum? angus.
Geneva smiled. He’d sent that on Saturday morning. She flipped to the next message.
Smug bitch
The smile slid off Geneva’s face. The sender’s name was masked. She clicked to the third message.
Think yr so special duh
Her hand shook as she brought up the fourth message. Any1 out there? wish I was. need rescue from bro and cuzzies. A.
The final message was from Angus as well. Hello? wots up? call u sunday pm. angus.
Geneva sank onto the bed, her breath rapid and uneven. With fingers that shook slightly she scrolled back through the phone log. The second and third messages had been sent on Saturday evening, an hour apart. Angus’s last message had been Sunday morning. This morning.
Taking a deep breath, Geneva considered the messages. Kitty was one of the few people who knew her number, but surely she wouldn’t be that petty. Jax maybe? But it wasn’t a guy’s style. It had to be Leonie or one of her cronies — which meant Kitty had passed on the number.
Geneva felt sick. She didn’t want to deal with it. Clenching her teeth, she deleted the messages and threw the phone back into her bag.
She no longer felt ready for bed. Stomping into the bathroom, she skulled a glass of water, washed her teeth for the second time and willed her stomach to stop churning. She should text Angus to make sure he knew she wasn’t ignoring him.
When she turned the phone on, there was a new text waiting. She opened it warily.
Mooo
Geneva took a deep breath and steadied herself. Not worth getting worked up about. She erased the latest text then opened the last one from Angus, lodged his number in the phone’s memory, and keyed a response: Glad yr back. sorry ph was off. c u soon. Geneva.
She sent the message and switched the phone off. If he replied, she’d read it in the morning — together with whatever other messages arrived. Geneva knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If Leonie was behind the texts, it was undoubtedly best to ignore them. Thumping her pillow she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep. As if.
When Geneva woke her sheet was wrapped cocoon-like around her and her eyelids felt glued to her cheeks. She thumped her alarm into snooze mode twice before she was ready to drag herself out of bed.
Her father frowned as she slumped into her chair at the kitchen table. ‘You look tired.’
Geneva nodded. ‘I didn’t sleep that well,’ she mumbled, weighing the comparative restorative powers of Vegemite and Weetbix.
‘Knee all right?’ her father asked.
Geneva nodded, settling on Weetbix. ‘Fine.’
‘If you’re worried about your mother,’ he began tentatively, ‘she’s just a bit run-down. She’ll be all right.’
Geneva looked at him in surprise. Her mother was usually a taboo topic — one of several. And ‘run-down’ was an understatement. Run over was more like it.
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ she asked cautiously, studying her father’s face for clues. Something like therapy, maybe, or a holiday, or … or whatever it took.
Her father shook his head. ‘It’s just a matter of time,’ he said.
Geneva sighed. Her mother might have been better off if she had been run over. At least then they’d be dealing with some definite physical problem that could be treated with more than time. She slopped milk into her bowl and fought an urge to fling Weetbix around the kitchen, satisfying herself with imagining it sliding wetly down the walls. That was how she felt after a week of being cooped up and unable to get out on
her own: as if she was wrapped in soggy Weetbix.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ her father murmured.
Geneva had to run to beat the second bell, but at least being late meant she didn’t see Leonie all morning. Kitty and she shared three classes but they’d had all year to perfect the art of ignoring each other. No change there.
When she checked her phone at lunchtime, Geneva felt both relief and disappointment. If she hadn’t been hoping for a message from Angus she wouldn’t have bothered turning it on — which was exactly what she needed Leonie, or whichever of her clones had sent those texts, to think. No way could she let on they’d reached their target.
After school, a cluster of Leonie’s crowd were hanging around the bike stands. Shouldering past, Geneva wondered whether they’d been waiting for her. As she wended her way through the bikes there was a drawn-out ‘moo’, almost a moan, behind her. The corner of her mouth lifted: she was pleased she’d guessed right. Pleased, too, even though it was irrelevant, that it wasn’t Kitty leaving the messages. As she unlocked her bike and turned to face the group Roz repeated the cow noise. Geneva stopped with a frown. ‘Feeling all right, Roz?’ she asked mildly. ‘I’d expect more of a baa from you — or is that just for when Leonie’s around?’
Roz’s reply was explicit, and Geneva made a show of looking puzzled. Maybe that’ll convince them it’s a waste of time, she thought, as she headed for the gates. Maybe not.
She gave her father a broad smile as she climbed into the truck. Ms Tiedemann’s suggestion last Friday had given her an idea.
‘Dad,’ she said as they turned off the expressway, ‘would it be okay if I stay with Julia on Wednesday night? The school volleyball team’s playing Bledisloe College and I wouldn’t mind going along to wave the flag. If I catch a bus from Julia’s to school on Thursday morning, it’d save you a couple of trips,’ she added.
Her father turned his eyes from the road to look at her. They’d talked more in the past week than they had in months. It was as if his wife’s accident had somehow steadied his focus. ‘I don’t mind driving you,’ he said.
‘I know,’ Geneva agreed. ‘It’s been really good. But I know you’re busy on the farm, and the tournament won’t finish till about nine. I can ring Julia tonight, if you’re okay with the idea.’
She didn’t like fudging the truth, especially when he was so obviously making an effort, but she needed to see a friendly face — several friendly faces, she corrected herself.
Her father shifted gears as they climbed the hill from one of the road’s many gullies. ‘As long as Julia doesn’t mind, and you can get to school without any difficulties, then I guess it’s all right with me.’ He paused, the car topping a rise that brought the mountain into view ahead of them. ‘Any chance Angus will be at the tournament?’ he asked.
Geneva could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. ‘I haven’t asked him,’ she said truthfully.
‘Perhaps you should,’ her father suggested, the hint of a smile lifting some of the shadow from his face.
13.
Tink smiled broadly as Geneva crossed the floor towards her.
‘Hey, stranger! I thought we’d lost you. How’re ya doing?’ Before Geneva could reply, Tink had turned back to pat a novice climber on the shoulder. ‘That was good. One more time, and concentrate on the way you shift your weight at the ledge.’
Geneva was twenty minutes late. The nearest bus stop had been miles away and her knee was throbbing. She glanced around — no sign of Angus. Her eyes came back to Tink. ‘Yeah, I’m good, thanks. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to climb though.’
Tink’s eyebrows lifted.
‘I cut my knee. Long story. I figured I’d give it a try, but —’
‘Well, well. Look who’s here. The mystery girl.’ Simon sauntered over. ‘Seen anything of our Angus lately, Jenny?’
‘Geneva,’ she corrected quietly.
‘Seems our Jenny has expressed a preference,’ Simon smiled, ignoring her interjection. ‘And that preference is apparently for our Gussy-boy.’
‘Given the options, who could blame her?’ Tink responded.
Simon ignored her. ‘Where’d you get to after the Slater’s party? There was a girl looking for you and someone said you and Angus had shot through, early on. I don’t like to think why.’
Geneva gritted her teeth. ‘Could be it had something to do with you spilling beer all over me.’
‘Ever a charmer,’ Tink murmured.
‘I didn’t, did I?’ Simon considered her for a moment then waved it aside. ‘Well, sorry. It wasn’t intentional — though I’m sure you’d suit the wet T-shirt look. I spent ages looking for you. I wanted to talk.’
‘You weren’t in any state to talk,’ Geneva snapped.
‘Well according to that girl —’ Simon clicked his fingers theatrically — ‘Leonie, that was her name — she had a quite a lot to say about you actually. She was really interested in how I knew you, not to mention how well I knew you. I told her nothing but the truth of course.’
I bet, Geneva thought. ‘Wasted effort,’ she said lightly. ‘Leonie wouldn’t recognise the truth if it spat in her eye.’
‘Yeah, well, she was saying that —’
‘Down to business guys,’ Tink interrupted. ‘Just take it gently Geneva. Do a couple of walls and then we can assess whether you’ll be up to the trip on Saturday. We’re doing the Pinnacles — within your range, but it’ll depend on the knee.’
‘What’s wrong with your knee?’ Simon asked.
‘Hello.’ Angus dropped his gear bag on the floor behind them. ‘Sorry I’m late, Tink.’ He looked at Geneva. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine thanks,’ said Simon. ‘Nice of you to ask. Geneva here has a bad knee — though maybe you already know?’
Turning her back, Geneva crossed to the beginners’ wall where the novices were already busy. Keri greeted her warmly, agreeing to belay without asking questions. A couple of climbs later, Geneva felt confident she could manage the trip even if it meant sticking to the easier slopes. The cut on her foot was healing well, and the thought of another weekend cooped up with her parents left her cold. The knee was more of a nuisance than anything.
‘Come along on Saturday if you want, but you probably shouldn’t push it,’ Tink advised at the end of the session. ‘How did you cut yourself?’
‘Broken glass,’ Geneva told her.
‘Running over it, were you?’ Simon drawled. ‘What was it? Hot pursuit?’
‘Pull your head in, Simon. Her mother had an accident.’
Geneva shot Angus a sideways look. She didn’t want either her injuries or the latest stage of her personal family saga to become a major preoccupation.
‘If it hurts, take a break. That’s the deal,’ Tink said, ignoring Simon. Geneva nodded. ‘Eight-thirty sharp Saturday morning, then. Any questions? No? Well, push off then. I’ve got a group of senior citizens due any minute.’
‘I’m glad you made it,’ Angus said when she appeared from the changing room. ‘I came via the bus stop but I must have missed you. You’ve got your mobile off again,’ he added.
Geneva nodded. ‘It’s been playing up. The shock of being used seems to have sent it into early retirement.’
‘How’s the knee really?’ Angus asked.
‘A bit sore,’ Geneva acknowledged. ‘More than I expected to be honest.’
‘Mum deigned to lend me the car so I can drive you from here. I have to be in by nine,’ he added, raising his eyebrows expressively. ‘School night and all that.’
‘Me too. You don’t mind about calling in at the volleyball, do you? I’m not really that bothered, except that’s what I told Dad I was doing — I could hardly say I was sick of him hovering over me and insisting I put my feet up. Plus, it’s a break for him from driving into town twice a day.’
‘No problem,’ Angus said, directing her towards the car park of the old warehouse that housed the climbing centre. ‘Bledi
sloe’s over near the stadium, which is a bit of a slog from here.’ He dropped his bag at the rear of a dark blue Subaru station wagon and fumbled in his pocket for keys. ‘I told Mum about your knee,’ he added. ‘That’s what swung me getting the car, but she’s bound to grill you on it if you ever get her on the phone. She likes to be in on things.’
Geneva shrugged. A conversation with his mother was bound to be less weird than the one she’d had with his younger brother. ‘Actually, when I rang on Monday, I got your brother. He told me you were out eating small rodents.’
Angus laughed. ‘Cretin. How about we don’t stop by my place?’
‘Let’s hear it for young love,’ Simon’s voice chipped in. ‘Sweet.’
‘Give it a rest, Simon.’ Angus looked genuinely pissed off.
‘Sorry. It’s just I’ve never seen you in action before.’ Simon held up his hands. ‘Okay, I’m going. Have a nice night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘Moron,’ Geneva muttered.
Angus grinned. ‘He’s all right really. He’s just jealous.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she laughed.
‘No, he is. He fancies you. And he’s used to getting the girls. He hasn’t got over you giving him the brush off at Slater’s party.’ Geneva snorted. ‘Anyway, forget Simon.’
‘Fine by me,’ she agreed.
‘So first the volleyball, then something to eat? The budget should just about stretch to McDonald’s.’ He grinned.
‘My treat,’ Geneva answered, ‘for ferrying me around.’
Angus shook his head. ‘We’ll arm wrestle for the privilege. In your case there’s a handicap.’ He grinned. ‘You’re not allowed to use your arms.’
14.
The Pinnacles rose sharp and dour above the easier line of hills that sloped away towards the coast. Their stark outline clicked a memory in Geneva’s mind: she’d been here before. How had she forgotten that?
Shadow of the Mountain Page 7
