by Hager, Mandy
Viv sagged at the knees. ‘Fu-u-u-u-ck.’ She looked shattered, shadows gouging her face.
Dean tucked his arm around her waist. ‘You bloody psycho. He could’ve hurt you. Still could.’
‘Piss off! I was spectacular!’ She winked at Will and Hunter. ‘Of course it takes a woman to sort things out.’
‘Oh, it ain’t sorted.’ Dean’s words tolled like one of Shakespeare’s prophecies. A really bad one. He play-punched Hunter’s arm. ‘That was far too close, kid. You stay with me tonight and tomorrow you wait till Bruce goes out, then high-tail it home and pack your gear. You’re not spending another night with him. It’s not safe.’
Hunter swayed. Dean caught him by the elbow and propped him up until he steadied. ‘Thanks guys. I was—it was—’ His voice caught as if his vocal chords were tied. Went husky. ‘I thought I was a goner.’
Viv pressed her cheek to his. ‘Never fear, e hoa. We’re on your side.’
The poor bastard was struggling to hold back tears. Will turned away to give him some dignity, aware for the first time since they stepped outside that music was pumping from the hall. So the concert had gone ahead, no doubt thanks to Cathy. But he couldn’t face going back. Felt way too exposed. Why the hell had he agreed to being filmed?
‘I’m going to hit the sack,’ he said. ‘I need some sleep.’
‘Are you okay, matey?’ Dean asked.
‘Yeah.’ Hello headache. Short time no feel.
‘We’ll talk about your little night-time expeditions later then.’ Dean eyeballed him. ‘But don’t you bloody dare go out tonight — Bruce will be on the prowl and you really don’t want to know what he’ll do if he finds you in the dark alone.’
Viv elbowed Dean. ‘Leave it.’ She beamed at Will. ‘That song, it was frickin’ awesome! I had tears running down my face.’ She cupped his chin and pressed her nose to his, their two breaths melding. ‘You’re pretty damn special, kid.’
‘Thanks.’ Her words made him want to cry as well. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, feeling Hunter’s gaze on him. ‘You okay, man?’
Hunter nodded. ‘Yeah. And thanks.’
‘No probs.’
Will watched them walk towards the hall, Dean draping one arm around Viv and the other around Hunter. He’d have made a great dad, Dean. Beneath that gruff Blythe exterior, he had a heart the size of a country. A giant warm landmass. Australia. Will’s mind flew to his parents. Thank god they didn’t know what was going on. All he could hope was that, by the time they twigged, he’d found a way to sort his shit. Yet he ached to speak with Mum. Just the sound of her voice was usually enough to calm him.
He sprinted back to Dean’s, nerves so shot he jumped at every unexpected sound and shadow like a skittish colt. Once home, he rang his mother’s mobile. Really needed to. It clicked through to answerphone on the first ring.
‘Sally Jackson speaking. Sorry not to take your call. Please leave a message.’
‘Mum? It’s me. I just wanted to say hello’ — Where are you? — ‘and to say I love you. And Dad.’ No, no. Too much like a hostage tape. He conjured up Viv, all bright and breezy. ‘All’s good here. The concert went really well. I’ll ring back soon.’
As he hung up he had a sudden flash, right back to the first time he sang alone on stage. It was his Year Five Christmas concert and he’d been chosen as a soloist. When he’d stepped forward, he’d frozen, just like tonight; each second expanding as Mrs Jenks started to count him in. But then he’d seen his mother’s face, shining as she mouthed for him to start — just like Pania tonight. He’d scooped in breath and held her gaze. ‘Not on a snowy night, By star or candlelight …’ The rest of the class joined him for the chorus, harmonies a little jagged but executed with great gusto. ‘Te Harinui, Te Harinui …’ Life had seemed so full of promise then.
Exhaustion swamped him. He swallowed two Panadol and crawled into bed, worried that Min was waiting, expectant and alone.
WILL WOKE TO A SUNNY morning, the birds outside singing disorderly operatic trills. One tūī stood out as more melodic than the rest. He’d love to find it; teach it how to sing an aria. Back home one aped the way their neighbour called the cat, ‘here, puss-puss-puss’, with exactly the same intonation. Like that kindergarten teacher on the news who’d taught a starling how to talk: ‘We must learn to love each other, no matter what our colour.’ It was the most surreal thing, hearing that statement coming from a bird. The really freaky part was that the damn thing sounded like it really meant what it said.
He stretched out in the finger of sunlight that probed between the curtains. What if the whole animal kingdom could talk! What if they’d hidden it all these centuries. Had grown so sick of humans screwing everything they decided to speak up. Min could be part of the whole plan, a messenger from the deep! He laughed aloud, a rare event. His thoughts bounced back to Viv. Amazing she could stay so calm when, really, she was terrified. Like his voice on the film, no hint of the barbed nerves that clamped his throat. And they’d clapped. They’d cheered. Some even cried. A wandering minstrel I — A thing of shreds and patches, Of ballads, songs and snatches …
He could hear Dean clattering dishes in the kitchen. By the time Will appeared Dean was sitting down with his porridge and cup of tea. Will helped himself to a cuppa then sat down opposite as usual.
‘Thanks for last night. I hope it didn’t stuff things up with Viv.’
Dean spluttered in his tea. ‘Nothing like a little argy-bargy to pep an evening up!’
‘She really likes you, you know?’
‘That’s your expert opinion is it, Dr Phil?’
‘Nope. She told me.’ Hell, why not? Dean needed to know. ‘She said something about finding it hard to compete with a dead woman.’
Dean slopped his tea. ‘Did she just?’ He sighed and put down his cup. ‘I dare say she’s right.’
‘Look, about Min—’
‘What the hell would’ve happened if something went wrong and I didn’t know where you were? You could’ve bloody drowned. Not to mention if Bruce or Harley caught you.’
‘I didn’t want him on his own — all the stuff online says it helps to stay with them while they’re injured. And it keeps him out of trouble.’
‘Not if he was at the nets again.’
‘I don’t believe Bruce. He’s either lying altogether or he’s sliced the nets himself. God knows why.’
‘Actually, I can think of several reasons. I’m gonna go out and check for myself, though it wouldn’t be the first time Bruce sabotaged something to claim insurance.’ He was silent for a moment then slammed his fist down on the table. ‘I bet that’s why I got stuck doing stocktaking yesterday — all he really wanted was to keep me busy. Out of the way.’
‘Can I come? I want to see if Min’s okay.’
‘Sure. Hey, that wasn’t a trick, was it? You know, him singing and all?’
Will shook his head. ‘You’re kidding? Ask Pania — he sang with her too and Hunter videoed it all.’
‘No offence, eh? I’ve just never seen or heard anything like that before.’
Will grinned. ‘Yeah. It’s pretty insane.’
There was a knock on the back door and Viv popped her head around the corner. ‘Can I come in?’
Dean started to rise. ‘You want a cuppa?’
‘Stay there. I’ll help myself.’ Viv poured herself a cup and joined them at the table. She and Dean looked as coy as hell, glances scuffing off each other, little shy smiles. ‘Well, the total’s in: after everything’s paid for there’s a grand total of two thousand, eight hundred and forty bucks! Not a bad start.’
Will’s heart sank. Nearly seven grand short. There was no way he’d be able to scrape up the rest before the fine was due. ‘Cool. Thanks so much.’ He tried to inject enthusiasm into his voice.
‘Everyone’s buzzing about your song, kid. Cathy reckons we should stick it up on YouTube and ask for don—’
Will shot to his feet. ‘No!’ The familiar
tightness ring-barked his chest. ‘You have to promise me that won’t happen.’
‘Whoa! Calm down. It’s just a suggestion.’ Dean raised an eyebrow at Viv. ‘Sorry. Old history. Tell Cathy thanks but no.’ He drummed his fingers on the tabletop in a regular 4-4 beat until it faltered. ‘If needs be I’ll sell down some shares.’
Will shook his head, dizzying himself. ‘Like hell you will.’
‘Will what?’ Hunter emerged from the small bedroom that doubled as Dean’s office. He looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink, deep purple slicks under his eyes.
‘Nothing,’ Will said. ‘You sleep all right?’
Hunter shrugged. ‘Crazy dreams. I was a salmon, can you believe it? And it was horrible, I was choking on PCBs and dioxins. Woke up at four a.m. Couldn’t get back to sleep.’
‘Those poor fish,’ Viv said. ‘Say what you like but it’s damn near impossible to farm them sustainably.’
‘Course there are ways,’ said Dean. ‘It just takes money. Mega money. And the will.’
‘Dad spends it in the wrong places,’ Hunter said. ‘I’ve been checking out closed containment tanks and new types of feed, but he won’t listen.’
Dean stood up and addressed Hunter. ‘Grab some food, bucko, I want to check those nets before Bruce gets to them. I could use your eyes.’ He carried his bowl to the sink, pausing to tuck the label into Viv’s T-shirt, his finger lingering on the back of her neck. ‘You wanna come and eat with us tonight? My friend the orca-whisperer here fancies his cooking skills — how about we make him walk the talk!’ He smirked at Will.
Humour warmed Viv’s eyes as she turned to him. ‘You any good in the kitchen, maestro?’
Was he? He’d gone through a phase of experimenting when TV cooking shows were all the rage. Thought it would go down well with the girls. So wrong. All it did was further feed the rumour he was a raging poof. Singing, acting, cooking — hell, he didn’t have one so-called manly skill. Hang on. Actually, he could sail now — and deal to fish.
‘Good,’ Dean said. ‘That’s settled then. We’ll check the fish farm this morning and then we’ll collect Hunter’s gear. Shall we say dinner at six?’
Viv grinned. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Okay then, it’s a date.’ As he pronounced the ‘d’ word he reddened. ‘Oh, shut up!’
He stormed out the back door, followed by their teasing laughter.
THEY REACHED FRANKLIN’S COVE BY ten. Min was nowhere to be seen along the way, though the upside was no sign of Bruce, either. Dean moored the tinny to the pontoon and they stepped up onto the walkway as Bob Davers sauntered from the shed to greet them.
Dean met him halfway. ‘What’s all this about the nets?’
‘See for yourself,’ Bob said. ‘That little bugger bit clean through.’
Will caught his gaze. ‘You saw him?’
‘Don’t have to see it to know what happened. There’s nothing makes more sense.’
They followed Bob to the sea cage on the eastern side. Dozens of salmon still wallowed inside but nothing near the seething mass that filled the others.
‘There.’ Bob pointed down to the outer corner. Someone had tacked the netting back together where the metal wires were sheered clean through, the cut about a metre long.
‘That’s nothing like the other one — it was all jagged and pulled out of shape,’ Hunter said.
Bob grunted. ‘Maybe it learnt from last time.’
‘Bullshit,’ Dean said. ‘Who was working yesterday?’
‘No one. Bruce said he’d fed them. Said we could all take the day off.’
Dean’s expression soured even further. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the rumble of Bruce’s big Cat as it sped into the bay. ‘Damn.’ He turned to Will and Hunter. ‘Go wait in the shed. Now. This’s between Bruce and me.’
Will’s gut contracted. ‘But—’
‘No buts. Just get your arses in there now and don’t come out.’
It was a crap idea, but if he didn’t hide neither would Hunter. ‘Come on, man. Let’s beat it.’
Hunter wavered a moment, then growled from deep in his belly as Will tugged him by the arm.
They disappeared into the shed just as Bruce pulled up. They huddled by the door, trying to catch what was being said as Bruce stepped up onto the walkway. His tone was angry but controlled, making it impossible for Will to decipher any words.
He glanced at Hunter. ‘What do you think? You reckon it was Min?’
Hunter snorted. ‘Doubt it. I saw the net Min got at — it looked nothing like that. Dean’s right. It had to be Dad.’
Outside, the volume had risen now. Dean was in full flight. ‘… some bullshit excuse. You think they won’t take one look at that—’
‘Keep your bloody nose out of it. I own this business and what I say goes.’
‘Yeah? Well, I’ve put over twenty years of my life into it and—’
‘Then you can piss off. I’m sick of your interfering and your pansy—’
There was a grunt, and then another, different, like the forced exhalation of air. Will shot into the doorway as Dean staggered backwards, Bruce all wound up, fists raised.
‘You stay here,’ Will said to Hunter, pushing him further back into the shed. He sprinted down the walkway. ‘Leave him!’ He slid to a halt beside Dean.
Bob Davers and a real munter of a man called Rick hovered nearby. Bob put a restraining hand on Will’s shoulder. He shrugged it off.
Bruce turned on him. ‘This is all your fault, you poncy little git. Get the hell off my farm — you and your bloody uncle — and if I ever see either of you here again—’
Dean was back in the game, fists bunched. ‘You leave Will out of this. It’s nothing to do with him. And if you dare try it on with the insurance companies I’ll dob you in, you lying prick—’
He got no further as Bruce slammed him with his meaty fist. Dean reeled back, stumbling in a terrible flailing scrabble of slow motion, his head hitting the deck with one horrendous thump. Will flew to him, shook him, panicked, but Dean was out cold. Will wasn’t sure if he should put him in the recovery position, throw water on to wake him, or just wait for him to come around. Oh Jesus. Staring down at him — pale-faced, out cold, swelling already puffing up his eye — was almost like having an out-of-body experience, only this time the poor sucker on the ground was Dean, not him.
Will heard a roar behind him and the walkway rocked as Hunter thundered down.
‘You bastard!’ Hunter launched at his father, ramming his head into Bruce’s chest.
Bruce staggered but didn’t fall. Threw himself back at Hunter, fists pounding, boots in. Hunter fought back with abandon; the air filled with the sound of grunting, flesh thwacking, knuckles striking bone. Will tried to get between them, but Rick grabbed him by the neck and choked him as he tried to batter free.
Hunter was on the ground now, still struggling, still cursing the old prick through bloodied lips, but Bruce didn’t let up. As Hunter tried to curl into a defensive ball, Bruce booted him. Over and over. Steel-caps into Hunter’s kidneys.
‘Stop him!’ Will struggled but Rick held firm. How the hell could they stand back? He was hyperventilating now, caught between the horror of old memories and this real-life nightmare.
When he’d kicked the last skerrick of fight out of Hunter, Bruce spat on him. ‘You’re as pathetic as your mother.’ Blood dripped from his nose, smearing across his cheek as he swiped at it. He didn’t even glance at Dean, just stormed back to his boat, threw off the mooring rope, and powered the Cat away so fast the whole structure heaved in its wake.
Will turned on Bob and Rick, who huddled nearby. Just standing there, not doing a goddamned thing to help. ‘You bastards. Get your arses over here and do something!’ Dean stirred. Thank god. Though now Will had to make a call: help Dean, who looked as if he would survive, or Hunter, who might not.
He squatted next to Hunter’s inert body and cushioned his bleeding h
ead with his outstretched hands. ‘It’s okay, mate, he’s gone.’ He wiped blood out of Hunter’s eyes, pinching together the split in his friend’s eyebrow to try to stem the flow. He shuddered as the aftershocks of Bruce’s attack now hit full force.
Dean groaned. He raised himself to hands and knees, stopped and closed his eyes, swaying, and then crawled over to Hunter’s side. His face was ashen, one eye a pulpy swelling mess. ‘Whadhappened?’
‘He took on Bruce,’ Will said, worried by Hunter’s shallow breathing. He pressed his fingers to his pulse: fast and weak. ‘I think we need to get him to the hospital right away.’
Dean pulled out his mobile phone, fingers fumbling, unable to make it work. He shoved it at Will. ‘Call one-one-one.’
Will transferred Hunter’s head to his knee and took the phone. Dialled. His tongue felt thick and clumsy as he struggled to describe Hunter’s injuries.
‘Can you get him back to Blythe?’ the operator asked.
‘Not sure. Should we even move him?’ He glanced at Dean, who was checking Hunter’s limbs for breaks.
‘The problem is, the chopper’s out already and it’ll take us nearly half an hour to get an ambulance crew to Blythe, and then they’ll have to find a boat — if you can get him back there, it’ll speed the whole process up.’
‘Okay. I’ll do my best.’
‘Do you want me to stay on the line and talk you through anything?’
How many hands did she think he had? ‘No, though can I call back if I need to?’
‘Of course. We’ll keep an eye out for your number. And ring me when you’re there — if the ambulance hasn’t arrived I can give you an update.’
Will ended the call and turned to Dean. ‘We have to get him back to Blythe. They’ll meet us there.’ He scouted around for Bob and Rick; spotted them back by the shed. ‘Help me carry him to the tinny,’ he called, surprised by the steel in his voice. How could those pricks have just stood there, doing nothing? It was inconceivable.
