The Jovian Legacy

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The Jovian Legacy Page 4

by Lilla Nicholas-Holt


  “Bugger!” Jack shouts, then snaps his head around. Dennis is astonished.

  Shit! He tries to mask the circumstances. His wailing spooks the sheep, causing them to charge wildly around the pen. Jack only has enough time to fold his arms up over his head before being trampled. Although most leap over him, Jack feels a trip of a hoof on his back.

  His back hurts and he cries for real. Dennis grabs him, lifting him high above the heads of the freaked-out sheep.

  “Cripes,” said Dennis “That’s nae a gey crakin’ thing tae happen tae a young laddie. Urr ye a’ richt?” Jack manages to nod his head, sniffling. “Let’s tak’ ye back tae th’ hoose ‘n’ bathe they wounds. I’m sorry aboot that, young laddie. Yer mum’s aff tae a be a mite cross wi’ me noo, seeings she’s entrusted me tae care efter ye ‘n’ all. Ah micht hae a wee treat in th’ cupboard fur ye.”

  Great. I’m here on a mission to find out if the girl I’m in love with is a cousin or, perish the thought, a sister, and I end up with hoofmarks on my back from a bunch of idiotic sheep and a bloody treat in the cupboard! He wishes he knew the time, estimating that he’s been fluffing around in the sheep pen for about half an hour.

  Dennis runs the bath, the strong scent of pine oil wafting from the bathroom.

  Must be Rawleighs people, he thinks, remembering how much his mother loved using Rawleighs.

  Jack welcomes the bath, pleased he’s able to splash around like a lunatic and get away with it. Dennis keeps vigil. This unnerves Jack, wishing this man would bugger off.

  The phone rings. Dennis looks in its direction, undecided.

  “I’ll be okay, Uncle Dennis,” Jack says in his sweetest little-boy voice.

  “Weel, okay then,” Dennis replies, his expression softening, delighted that his new charge had just called him Uncle. “Ye stay sittin’ up ‘n’ plooter yer ducks while ah git th’ phane then.”

  Jack watches Dennis leave the bathroom.

  “Yes!” he says, doing the arm gesture. “Plooter yer ducks…” Jack mimics, and sniggers.

  Sliding underwater, Jack holds his breath. He can usually hold his breath for two minutes, but wonders if he can achieve it as a two-year-old. Running his hands up and down his small torso, Jack feels it strange and soft. He had been counting for a while now, passing sixty.

  Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, Jack counts in his head.

  Suddenly, a muffled yell. “Jack!” Then two strong hands grab his body and yank him from the warmth. Jack’s head jerks back and he accidently farts.

  Bloody hell!

  Dennis trembles, spluttering, “Urr ye al richt? Urr ye al richt?”

  Yeah, I’m all bleedin’ reet, Jack wants to shout, but grins instead.

  “Cripes,” I’m ne’er aff tae mak’ it as a bebysitter, am ah? It’s hard wirk, ‘n’ ah tak’ mah hat aff tae mothers. There’s juist bin anither addition tae yer family, Jack. Ye’v git a bonny wee sister.” Jack feels the blood drain from his face. It is the news he is dreading. He’d typed in Megan’s birthday - 4th December 1984.

  Dennis pats him dry. “Mah guid wife’ll be hame soon tae tak’ ower, then she’ll tak’ ye in tae see ye new wee sister. Her name is Julia.”

  Julia? Things didn’t add up.

  What if she is my sister, the one who died from cot death? But why would Mum travel all the way to the South Island to have the baby? And why did they rename her Danielle?

  Within a few minutes a girl walks into the room. Jack cannot believe his eyes. He hears Dennis talking to a lady at the door, thanking her for looking after Katy. Jack knows who she is - the girl in the photo.

  My God! he thinks. This girl must be five or six now, and in a few years’ time, she won’t even be alive. Jack feels sick to his stomach, moved to tears. Here he is in front of a girl that has the most beautiful green eyes and honey blonde hair. Her smile is just like Megan’s. He knows she’s not Megan though because Megan was born today.

  Yet she looks so much like her!

  Katy appears shy, but shows concern when she sees Jack’s tears. “What’s the matter?” she asks sweetly.

  Jack’s heart lurches again, and wants to wrap his arms around this beautiful, innocent girl who doesn’t know her fate in six years’ time.

  “I miss my mummy,” he manages to say instead.

  “I miss my mummy too!” Katy says, screwing up her face and starting to cry. Dennis strides back into the room. “What’s a’ this aboot then? Katy, that’s nae a guid example o’ making yer cousin feel at hame,” he scolds kind-heartedly.

  “I want my mum to come home,” she sniffles.

  “She’ll be hame in a few days,” he assures her. “She’s helping Aunt Nancy at th’ hospital. Ye’v git a new lassie cousin - Julia.”

  “Don’t wanna go back to Mrs Maxwell’s house,” Katy retorts.

  “Ye’ll be at schuil th’morra, young lassie, ye’r a schuil lassie noo, remember? ‘N’ it’s ainlie fur a couple o’ hours efter schuil. Ye kin plooter Mrs Maxwell’s wee bairn. Aunt Barbara wull be at hame th’ day efter tae pick ye up efter schuil. Then she’ll be taking ye ‘n’ Jack in tae see Jack’s new wee sister. Ye kin see yer mother tae. Jack haes git tae go back hame soon sae ye better mak’ th’ maist o’ his company. Why don’t ye go ‘n’ shaw him yer birthday presents?” Dennis suggests, patting her back.

  While Dennis speaks to Katy, Jack observes his facial expressions. Although he isn’t sure, it seems like his uncle is not divulging the full picture.

  Nah, Jack reckons, thinking he must be turning into the biggest cynic. Yet, he thinks, things just don’t add up.

  The clock on the wall ticked over to 5.45 p.m.

  Oh help! Jack realises he only has fifteen minutes to figure everything out, and also to enjoy the company of his cousin whom he thinks he probably won’t ever see again. He helps her lift her presents down. From her recently celebrated fifth birthday she shows Jack her new doll’s house, its furniture in miniature form. Katy tells him she still has more furniture in the shoebox, and asks if he would like to help her set it out in the doll’s house.

  “Okay,” Jack grins, gazing at her in awe.

  He hears Dennis talking on the phone in the next room. “Aye, that’s richt, Ben, ’twas a greet success….They’re wi’ Pippa. Thare wis a wee complication towards th’ end sae thay performed a caesarean. They’re in perfect health, Julia’s six ‘n’ a hauf poonds ‘n’ Theresa’s five poonds three ounces. Julia cam oot foremaist. Pippa’s okee, juist pure tired.”

  What! Julia and Theresa. Who’s Theresa? Did Mum have twins? Why was Aunt Pippa there and why was she so tired and not Mum, as if she was the one who’d had them? What the bloody hell’s going on? Jack peeks around the doorway and sees a kind of euphoria on Dennis’s face.

  Chapter 3

  Back at his computer, Jack cursed. “Why didn’t I ask for longer? I stuffed it up big time!”

  The phrase came up on the screen again. “Thank you for participating in Part 6 of our research. Please await further instructions.”

  “Please await further instructions!” Jack angrily mimicked. “I don’t want to wait for bloody instructions! Just want to find out what’s going on. Bugger ya Jovian scientists; you’ve already done the damage; give me the results!” In exasperation he went to the fridge and grabbed another can of Coke.

  That evening Jack sat on his porch until late, Coke in hand, pondering over why his life had suddenly been turned upside down. Why can’t I just have a normal one like everyone else? A normal life with a normal family. He needed to ask his parents a few more questions.

  Deep in thought, Jack nearly missed getting the phone. It was Megan.

  “Hi ya,” he said, delighted to hear her voice again, “how’s it going?” Megan wanted to come over and talk to him about something.

  “Half an hour?” he suggested, his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. Got to play it cool with her, he cautioned himself again. Just have to chill.

  Meg
an arrived with a look of worry across her face.

  Shit.

  “Can I get you a cuppa tea or something?” Jack asked, wondering if he had any milk in the fridge.

  “Um, do you have some lemonade?”

  “Coke. That alright?”

  “Yeah, for sure,” Megan replied. “Jack, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Taking the can from the door of the fridge, Jack’s hand momentarily stilled. Shit shit.

  “At lunch today Mum and Dad started to ask about you. They were asking when they were going to meet you. Dad said to me, ‘This Jack, he seems like a nice lad, does he treat you well?’ and of course I said yes, and pointed out that we’re just good friends. He glanced at Mum and then said to me, ‘His name’s not Jack Dunlop is it?’. When I said, ‘Yeah, how did you know?’ they looked worried. Dad didn’t know what to say, then said, ‘Oh, I just saw you’d written that name down somewhere.’ Seemed to me he’d just made that up. What’s going on, Jack?”

  Jack handed the can to Megan, averting his eyes, his lips in a tight line as if he were doing a maths problem. “Really? I wonder what he meant by that,” he faltered. “Maybe cos my name was mentioned in the news when my folks went missing. It was talked about for weeks in the papers.”

  “Maybe.” Megan said, somewhat unsure. “Okay, but why didn’t he just say that?”

  Jack bent down in front of Megan and held her hands, winging it. “Look, it really doesn’t matter what your dad was thinking. As long as he knows that I’m treating you well and that we’re just good friends, like you said, aye.”

  Megan smiled back at him. “Yeah, I guess. But… is there something wrong with me, Jack?”

  “What? No way!” Jack replied, feeling relieved that she had changed the subject.

  “Jack,” she continued, “Don’t you find me attractive?”

  Jack felt himself redden. “What kind of question is that? You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met!” he exclaimed.

  “Cos we haven’t, you know…kissed. Is everything okay?” Megan pressed.

  Here we go again. “Oh Megs, we’re both a bit young, aye. Even though you’re way more mature that other fifteen-year-olds, you’re still only fifteen, and until the time is right, and we know it’s exactly what we want, we won’t get hurt.” He knew he was rambling.

  “Let’s go out for some kai tonight, okay?” Jack enthused, rubbing his hands together, changing the subject. “Where would ya like to go? Valentines?”

  “Yeah, as long as they’ve got oysters on the menu,” she smiled.

  Whew! that was close. Just gotta think up a stimulating conversation to keep her off the subject, or better still….

  “Why don’t we ask Brad and Natalie to come along with us, they’re good company, aye?”

  “Yeah, cool,” Megan grinned.

  Chapter 4

  It was still dark when Jack was awoken by the buzzing of his computer. He peered at his digital alarm clock, which illuminated the time: 5.55 a.m.

  Jack moaned. Since he was a night owl, to be woken up at such an ungodly hour was a shock to his system. Not to mention the grumpy mood he would now be in for the rest of the day. Not wanting to drag himself out of his snuggly warm nest, he tried to ignore it, turning over and throwing the blanket over his head, holding it tight. The buzzing of the computer didn’t go away. Instead it got louder. Jack forced himself out of bed.

  Heavy with sleep, he stared blankly at the wording…“We wish to continue our research. Are you in readiness to proceed?”

  About to type ‘n’…‘o’, he reluctantly decided against it given his wanting to find out about Megan once and for all. Although they could have asked him at a better time, he reckoned.

  “Yes,” he begrudgingly typed.

  “Please apply virtual reality device and type in a date and duration of time.”

  Jack thought really hard. As difficult as it was to think at that time of the morning, he keyed in ‘11th May 1993, three hours’.

  Jack finds himself still living on the farm, driving the farm ute around the paddocks. He recalls being adept at driving, learning from the age of nine. He gave himself a fright early one morning while his parents were still asleep, starting up the ute and bunny-hopping towards the rock bank. His parents had woken to a high-pitched squeal coming from outside. It had taken him a good couple of days to summon up the courage to start the ute up again, and before long was hooning up and down the driveway, checking his parents’ mailbox six times a day. One day he came in, sheepishly saying that he’d ‘taken out’ the driver’s wing mirror. He’d tried to check the mail without getting out of the vehicle and had gotten too close to the letterbox.

  Jack looks around for his beloved dog, and sees Bud stretched out under a tree. Poor old Bud, he must twelve or thirteen by now.

  When Jack had last been projected back into his old farm environment Bud had been so full of life, a young dog at the time. This time Bud doesn’t jump all over him. Instead he moseys over to the ute, still pleased to see him, as is Jack to see Bud. Jack wraps his arms around Bud’s neck to give his dog a hug, but stops in his tracks. He’d forgotten the old dog’s powerful odour. Jack could almost see the hurt in his eyes as if to say, “Well give me a bath then”. His father used to send Bud into the sheep dip during their yearly dousing. Ben would whistle Bud to jump in, using the sheep crook to push his head under to ensure he was totally immersed. The dog would, like the sheep, then be protected from infestation against parasites like ticks.

  Jack still loves him and cannot get over the difference in Bud’s age, especially since the last time he’d seen him was actually only a few weeks earlier.

  Driving on down to the hay paddock, he sees something disturbing, when he spots his dad in the distance checking the sheep. The sheep all stop eating and begin charging around the paddock, bleating. Jack surveys the paddock, searching for a stray dog that he thinks must have spooked them, but there is only dear old Bud, who had flopped himself back down under the tree. Jack looks over at his father, who is also looking around, confused. A flock of birds abruptly fly out of the tree, giving Bud a fright. A band of quails suddenly take flight, their sound resembling fingers strumming an old-fashioned washboard. Bud struggles up, his tail between his legs, howling.

  “Cripes, what’s happening? Easy there, old fella,” Jack says to Bud, patting him on the head.

  He hears a rumble. The ground begins to shudder under his feet. Jack calls out to his father, who is running towards him. Ben barely reaches his son when a strange, thunderous cracking runs up the paddock, creating a wide and frightening cavity in the ground. They witness Ben’s tractor drop into the large earth fracture, catching itself and is now teetering precariously on the edge. A flock of startled black swans that had previously been coasting down the river, ungainly splash about before taking flight. They hear another loud crack. The tree that Bud had been lying under is being ripped from its roots. It falls across the river, forming a bridge.

  Jack then remembers what came next. How could I forget? It had made headlines with a pun that some people took an exception to: “Ground Breaking News”. A shiver runs up his spine, reminding him of the ordeal.

  His father yells at him to help. He had raced over to his crippled tractor, grabbing a rope from its tray. Ben throws one end of the rope to Jack and tells him to take it across the fallen tree and secure it at the other end. Driven by adrenaline, Jack sprints across the trunk. A number of ewes in lamb, spooked by the earthquake, have hurtled themselves into the river that has now become, due to the movement beneath the riverbed, an almighty torrent. A few stricken ewes sweep towards the fallen tree where Jack prepares himself to make the rescue attempt.

  His father treads carefully across the tree, almost meeting Jack in the middle, when another jolt is felt. The earthquake causes both Jack and Ben to lose their footing, and they find themselves in the water being swept along with the rapidly flowing current. Debris caught in the river-bend ch
okes the waterway, making it treacherous for the men to manipulate. Jack, slightly ahead of his father, who, Jack notices, is starting to panic. Ben flails his arms, trying to grab onto something. Jack’s father disappears underwater and emerges, gasping for air. Jack feels powerless and cannot reach his father. Ben goes under again and doesn’t surface. In an almost superman-like effort, Jack grasps a log that is wedged between some fallen trees, and pulls himself up onto it. He catches sight of his father who suddenly emerges, gasping, then is swallowed again by the river. Now pumped with adrenalin Jack is determined not to let his father drown.

  No way.

  With a leg on each side of the log, Jack quickly shuffles across it, feeling a stab of pain as a jagged branch slices into his thigh. The warm blood oozes down his leg. Ignoring the pain, Jack scrambles onto the riverbank and fights his way through the trees and scrub until he reaches the spot where he’d seen his father last go under. With incredible balance he races across another log to get to him. Jack spots his father at the bottom of the river, his body limp and caught on debris. With a desperate grab Jack yanks him out, lugging him inch by inch towards the riverbank. Ben Dunlop’s face is ashen, looking like he has already drowned.

  Without thinking, Jack administers CPR on his badly bruised and beloved father. He cries out an animal-like sound when Ben doesn’t respond. Hearing a distant scream Jack looks up to see his mother in the paddock, Bud beside her. With a distressed mother, and his father not responding, Jack is on the verge of panic. With a last ditch effort of transferring precious oxygen into his father’s lungs, Ben splutters to life. Jack quickly turns his father onto his side into the recovery position, crying with relief and flopping on the ground. Only then does he take notice of the gash in his leg, and becomes light-headed from the loss of blood.

  He manages to pull the belt from his trousers and secures it around his leg in an endeavour to stem the flow. As he pulls it tight he is alerted to an ambulance bouncing through the paddock. It is accompanied by the neighbours’ ute with a ladder on its tray.

 

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