by S E Holmes
“Highly reasonable. Totally adequate.”
When we finally entered the kitchen, laughing, the boys were already encamped. Years as surfers had conditioned them to rise early. Bickles sat at the table, impatiently rubbing his hands together in anticipation of food, his hair spiked crazily up at the back from sleep. Hud ransacked the refrigerator, half of him hidden behind the door.
“What are you doing, Hud? Laying the eggs?”
“You want some cheese with that whine?”
“No, but I’ll have some cheese with my eggs.”
“Morning, fellas,” Smithy boomed.
Hud lurched up, banging the crown of his head on the lip of the freezer. His afro was gone, replaced by a thin veneer of brown. “Fu—” He glanced at me. “—uzzy duck! You ever get sick of sneaking up on a person, Vee, I’ll be the first to offer congrats.”
“Is it my fault your grandpa hears better than you?”
“He hears fine, as soon as Granny stops nagging.”
“I never thought the day would come when your grandpa has more hair than you, Hud. That ridiculous hat you wear will finally fit you.”
“Semi-baldness flatters my eyes, though. Don’t you reckon?” He batted his eyelids.
“How are you doing, Bear?” Bickles asked. “You seem on the mend.”
The fun mood burst like an overblown balloon. I scrambled to get it back, clinging to normalcy until the last second.
“Much better,” I chirped brightly, fooling no one. “Thanks for asking, Ty. And it’s nothing coffee can’t help. You guys want a cappuccino?” Their faces lit up.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I headed for the cupboards opposite the fridge, dragging our neglected Expobar coffee-maker out to the bench top from its covered nook – an expensive machine that had seen almost no action. I’d been dying to put my barista skills to the test, locating the coffee beans. The three boys busied themselves with scrambled eggs and muffins, the rising smell of sizzling bacon and percolating coffee mouth-watering. “Where’s Andie, Ty?”
“You need to be a gladiator to rouse her before eleven, preferably armed with a pike and shield. She gave me a black eye, once. We draw straws for it.”
“No problem. I’ll take her a breakfast tray.”
“Er,” Bickles raised a sceptical brow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance. I’ll nudge her with the broom.”
For a while, the only sounds in the kitchen were all of us tucking in. My last good meal seemed forever ago, and I wolfed two muffins with grilled tomato and mushrooms.
“That’s my little garbage disposal.” Smithy smirked from the suds-filled sink, having eaten four helpings. I flicked him with the teatowel, attending to Andie’s meal, while the other two collected our plates and delivered them for washing up.
“No coffee for you, hypocrite.”
“Coffee? I thought you concocted meringue, Bear.” Hud raised his eyebrows at the wobbling pillar of steaming foam next to the rest of Andie’s food on the tray.
“Humph.” I flounced from the kitchen to a round of snickers, my nose in the air and the broom angled at my elbow.
“I’m joking, Bear. Truly,” Hud called after my retreating form. “You can never have too much froth.”
I made Andie’s door and knocked softly, edging inside. She gave me her back, cocooned by the comforter, a patch of ebony hair the only bit of her visible.
“Andie …? It’s Bear. I brought you coffee and a muffin.”
Balancing the tray, while wielding the broom, I gingerly made my way to her side. She leaped upright, throwing her covers to the end of the bed, and I nearly dropped the lot. She wore a pink satin shorts-set and seemed wide awake.
“Thank the ancestors. Give.” She wiggled her fingers eagerly and I plopped on the bed. She grabbed the tray and began to bolt down food with grunts of enjoyment.
“But Bickles said you’d be in a coma. That I’d join you on life-support if I tried to wake you.”
She giggled, her mouth full as she slurped. “Good coffee.”
For that comment alone, I adored her. She placed a pillow against the bedhead and patted a spot for me to sit next to her, chewing noisily. “So, that’s what the broom is for.” I nodded. “It’s not really a lie. I’m not great in the mornings. Just not as bad as I let on. My edition of the spongy truth.”
“Why?”
“How many times have you been on one of their surfing safaris?”
“Ah, never. Smithy was more into martial arts when I left.”
“Well, if you enjoy smelling like a campfire and not showering for days on end …” She swallowed, waggling a forefinger. “And I don’t care what they say, a swim in the ocean doesn’t count. Fighting off bugs that regard insect repellent as a challenge to be overcome, not to mention territorial possums with claws like a wheat thresher, and snakes and spiders with the qualities of homing pigeons, then it’s for you.”
I laughed as she spoke. The look of disgust on her face was priceless. “You had me at bugs.”
“Oh, but there’s more. The hours of boredom while the boys drive around discussing weather conditions and the swell, for one thing. Not to mention the further hours of boredom once they’re actually in the water, deserting you on the beach to burn to a cinder or huddle under a parka in the rain. And to cap it off, they seem to revel in the utter lack of civilisation, a phone signal or electricity … as if that’s a good thing.” Her story was punctuated with hyperactive hands and concerted munching.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love surfing, but it’s more of a hobby for me than a religion. Too much sunscreen makes me break out and I’m not at all partial to leaves as toilet paper or endless meals of charcoaled beef. This was the only way to stop Ty from inviting me every time, and for me not to offend him with every no. He doesn’t get that I’m allergic to tents.”
“I’m sorry I missed it. Sounds like a hoot.”
“Unfortunately, I had to punch Ty in the face to cement the message.” She peered at me, surprise registering. “You’re not attached to Vee.”
“Nope. Aunt Bea’s drugging me. Allayver. It seems to stop the worst of it. We have to be careful, though. Their brews are pretty strong in the wrong dose. And it’s only while we’re away. When I get back I have to go cold turkey again.”
“I don’t care how. It’s such a relief to see you better. Are you scared?”
“I really want to get it over with,” I hedged. “I’ve got excellent motivation to live like a normal person now.”
“He is, isn’t he? You know, when I first met Vee a couple of years ago, I couldn’t stand him.” She grinned and I admired her honesty. “He was working at The Cliff with Hud after school, teaching indoor rock climbing.”
“I was under the impression Smithy was universally worshipped.”
“You’ve always been biased, I think. And according to Ty, he only ever shows you his best behaviour.”
My choke interrupted her. “Yes, dragging me fully clothed into a freezing shower and vomiting in my lap are very considerate.”
She laughed, before getting serious. “The boys were depressed when you went away because you took their friend with you.”
“I should kick Smithy’s arse for being such a prat.”
“You’re the only one on the planet that could get away with that. When he wasn’t trying to kill himself by throwing himself off buildings, or pretending his bike could fly, he was drunk and morose. And he had the worst potty-mouth I’d ever known. He never smiled, hardly washed, and wiped his boots on girls’ feelings. Did I mention the blue hair? But gradually, he started to change. It was obvious to me because I went overseas for long stretches and when I returned, he’d be variations on a different person. I got to see why his friends love him so much. It was because of you. Talking about you was guaranteed to improve his black moods.”
“How boring for you,” I said, mortified.
“Don’t be silly. You sounded so mysterious.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot. “It’s kind of weird how different we can be around certain people.”
“And how sometimes, certain people can inspire us to be the finest we can be.” She chewed the inside of her bottom lip. “You know that screw-the-devil look of his, Winnie?”
“I may be vaguely familiar.”
“Watch out for that look. It’s all very well and good surfing big waves or leaping farther than all of your mates, but I’m worried recklessness now will bring big trouble. Trouble we can’t fix, given what we’re risking. Look what happened with Hud … being Hud. That’s all I’m saying.”
I saluted in mock seriousness. “Eternal vigilance.”
Over the cup, Andie rolled her eyes, sipping the last of her coffee with a broad smile. “I see why he likes you so much. You’re as bad as each other.”
“I promise. I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe.” I squeezed her forearm, wriggling across the mattress and getting to my feet.
“Wait.” She put the tray on her bedside table and held her arms apart. “Can you?”
Leaning down, I hugged her hard for several moments, ignoring the psychological flood. She seemed slight, but there was nothing insubstantial about her grip or the strength of her fortitude. I knew even in natural circumstances we would have been firm friends.
“Please be careful. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend, Andie. It’s a selfish thing to admit, but I like it and I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”
“Be as selfish as you like. We don’t want to lose you either, Bear.”
We broke apart, beaming at each other. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
As I moved to leave, I spoke over my shoulder. “We’re about the same size. Help yourself to my room, anything you want. Not that you’ll be partying, but Fortescue buys the most amazing shoes. Oh, and make sure you bring gaffer tape on any mission.” I could hear Bickles and Hud shuffling around outside the door, arguing in hushed tones about who would do the deed. I put my finger to my mouth and whispered, “Quick, maintain position. They’ve sent out search and rescue, betting I’ll require first aid.”
“I’m not saying goodbye or good luck. It’s bad luck. See you soon.”
Andie winked, and then wormed her way under the doona. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that I’d acquired more people to care so deeply about, only to leave them behind. Would they be safer with me? I didn’t think so. With the Crone on the prowl, anyone who stuck close to me strayed too close to her.
Twenty-Four
Half an hour later, Andie’s warning echoing in my ears, Bea drove us into the cavernous G5 hangar. Smithy and I were crammed in the back seat with an agitated Vovo, her fur electrified and claws extended to puncture costly leather. Cherish, likewise antsy next to Bea in front, meowed pitifully and scratched at the window. Apparently, the cats were averse to mechanical forms of transport. I’d forgotten to ask why we were taking them at all, and considered dosing them with my potion for the twenty-three hour journey to Lafayette. Fortescue arrived in the Mini with Daniel and Mrs Paget.
Smithy got out and stood awestruck by the jet. “Where’s the pilot?”
Bea had popped the trunk of the Bentley and commenced unloading rectangular weapons cases to the tarmac. Fortescue packed them onto an upright forklift and ferried them for depositing in the plane.
“Here,” she replied brusquely. She could fly well enough, but it was not her favourite pastime.
Daniel joined her at the back of the car, carting the larger, heavier boxes. “Here.”
I grappled the reluctant Vovo into her travelling cage. It might have been easier had I a dead rat or water buffalo to tempt them in, but made do with the sole of my Converse sneaker. With the gate firmly locked, she yowled up a storm.
“And here. Quit it, sook.”
“Since when?” Smithy stopped helping with the equipment. “You never told me.”
“I guess I didn’t really get the chance, Smithy. We’ll teach you if you want.”
Observing Vovo’s downfall, Cherish adopted an alternate strategy. He scrambled up as though scaling a tree and wrapped himself around me; his claws were sharp and he was heavy. Only my knees were visible beneath his bulk, my face pressed into his coat.
“A little help?” I yelled prior to suffocation. “Get off me, you big pansy!”
This was the bit I’d been dreading. Just one act remained when the loading was finished. Mrs Paget and Fortescue lingered by the cars, looking despondent. Bea went first to her for a hug, dabbing at her cheek with a lace-edged hanky, before moving to Fortescue. Mrs Paget’s eyes welled with tears.
“Please, Grace. I shan’t be able to bear it if you cry.” The jet powered up in the background, Daniel at the controls.
Smithy took his turn, the tiny lady disappearing in his embrace. “Have a little faith, Mrs Paget. We’ll be back in a couple of days. We’ll have a welcome home party.”
He shook hands with Fortescue, whose countenance was stoic. “Take care of Winsome. Please ensure she returns, whole and healthy. You’ve seen my sword collection, Vegas. I’ll be most disappointed if you do not take care of yourself, also.”
“I’ll endeavour not to disappoint you, Fortescue,” Smithy said.
Bea fled into the plane before she was overwhelmed. I stepped to Mrs Paget and smiled. She appeared uncertain as I opened my arms to her.
“It’s okay, I’m under the influence.”
“My life is complete having known you, Winsome.”
She squeezed me hard, murmuring something about darkness that I didn’t catch. I didn’t like her use of the past tense and pulled away to hold her at arm’s length.
“No, it’s not. There are still many years of my mess for you to clean up. My generation lives at home forever and I’m absolutely incompetent at taking care of myself. Are you listening, Mrs Paget? I expect cake on my arrival.”
“Never forget how much I love you.”
She broke off with a sob and dashed for the Mini, screeching from the hangar. This was even worse than I’d anticipated. Fortescue, whose face showed the same fierce devotion as the night he’d launched into my room wearing purple socks, spear in hand, stepped up for a hasty clinch.
“You are a daughter to me, Winnie. The best child a father could wish for. And fathers do not outlive their daughters. I am confident this is a parental directive you will accomplish with aplomb.” His tone was firm, though his eyes gleamed.
“I love you too, Fortescue.”
He noisily cleared his throat, blinked a lot and nodded, before tracking Mrs Paget’s footsteps to the Bentley. The engine roared and he steered out into another striking summer day.
“Do you get the feeling they think we’re heading naked into a nuclear winter?” Smith asked over the whine of the jet.
“It’s not exactly a vote of confidence, is it?”
“Oh no,” Smithy groaned. “Hit me with some allayver, Bear. Make it a keg.”
The judge’s unmistakable silver Audi RS6 eased into the shed. I peered up at the cockpit, where Bea froze next to Daniel. They’d both seen our uninvited guest. The judge bounded from the car, wearing Volleys, cut-off jeans and a Walking Dead t-shirt. I didn’t like its teeming zombie image one bit. How the hell did he know where we were?
He slung an overnight bag over his shoulder, retrieving a thick paper, sunnies and a wide-brimmed straw hat from the front seat. Locking his car with a bleep, he strode towards us, a determined smile on his face.
“I’m sorry, Bear. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Go, quickly. I’ll sort it.”
“Now don’t have a cow, Vegas,” Judge Smith shouted and raised a conciliatory hand, as his son stomped off to the plane. “I realise it’s not the most fitting circumstance for a father-son catch up …” His good cheer faltered.
“Hi, Judge Smith.” I moved to intercept him.
“Good morning, Winsome. I’m sorry to hear about the death i
n your family.”
“Nash.” Bea hurtled down the steps from the plane, her oversized black shirt flapping. She wore leggings that showcased her long, svelte legs and black knee-high boots, her cheeks rosy with stress.
He surveyed my black combat pants and black singlet, his frown deepening. “I understand the need for black, but what’s with the military theme? We’re not mourning the demise of a right-wing extremist, are we?” His joke fell flat. He paused until Bea joined us, before wading on. “I apologise for the intrusion, Bea. I’d like to accompany you wherever you’re going. If you’re amenable, of course.”
Bea and I stood with mouths agape. Vegas didn’t inherit his obstinacy from thin air. The judge could convince children calculus was fun and we knew arguing was pointless.
“I understand the situation is not ideal.”
Bea recovered poise and offered a credible smile. “Certainly, Nash. Please, take a seat inside and we’ll have a chat.” She gestured towards the plane and watched as he put distance between us, before sidling close and muttering, “Winsome, you must discover if he can see the Deltas as soon as possible. I don’t have plan B if they are not visible to him. It is too dangerous for Nash and even more dangerous for us. We may be forced to abandon him in Hawaii, which won’t win us any favours and is clearly the least attractive alternative.”
She spun and tramped towards the judge, where he lingered at the bottom of the steps to let her precede him up into the cabin. Who said old-fashioned chivalry was dead? I entered the luxurious confines of the plane. Over the top of his front-facing seat, Smith’s scowl said it all. He sunk beyond view and I accepted I could not count on his help with the judge. His anger was too acute. Who could really blame him?
The door retracted, muffling outside clamour to enhance the prickly atmosphere within. Bea settled Judge Smith in his seat and stowed his bag underneath.
“Forgive me, Nash. I must copilot until we’re underway. Make yourself comfortable. Winnie will see to any requests you have.”
She disappeared into the cockpit. He stared out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. I sank into the buttery leather opposite and eased the strain with small talk.
