‘It’s usually pretty good. Most of the year you get surf here, especially the southern end.’
‘Have you tried the northern end?’ Kate asked.
‘A few times. It’s awesome. There’s a great rip that can take you straight back out so fast, it’s amazing. It’s so scary if you head for the rocks.’
I put my hand up to my eyes and pointed to the end of Ben Buckler. There was a patrol boat already crashing through the waves, heading around the point.
‘I had one freaky experience. I thought for sure I was going to be cut to pieces. My board got scraped and a few dints.’ I laughed now, but at the time I thought I was dead.
‘I want to do it.’ Kate did a little jig.
‘If you’re here a few weeks it’s sure to be happening one day. It’ll be great doing it with you in case I need to be scraped off the rocks.’
‘Now look who’s being disgusting.’
‘It happens.’ I stared knowingly.
‘Amateurs!’
I felt a pang of envy at Kate’s lack of fear. I’d been taught to always be a little afraid, alert to the ocean’s signs. It had been drummed into me that the ocean was all powerful, it was nature and could not be tamed or controlled. I sighed.
‘You have to be careful. There are statistics you know.’
‘Statistics!’
‘You know fatalities, casualties, that sort of thing.’
‘There’s statistics everywhere. Who cares! If your number’s up, your number’s up.’
I froze. Kate kept walking, oblivious to my nervous breakdown. I felt I was going to splutter out something I’d really regret. I saw a maze in front of me, paths going nowhere, made purposefully to get you lost. My legs shook. Kate grabbed my arm. I’d forgotten she was there.
‘Jules, Jules you’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?’
I couldn’t think of an answer. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
‘I … I … just sort of blanked out. I mean maybe it’s the sun or something. I’ve only had a banana to eat. I’m starving.’
Kate looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m fine.’
I wanted to ask Kate if that had ever happened to her. Did she ever have that feeling that the world stopped? Lost time. Where did it go?
In front of us a child was crying. It snapped me out of my reverie. The child demanded her mum stop the small waves, rushing the shoreline. The mother laughingly tried to explain why she couldn’t but the child screamed louder and ran off to the water, screaming at the waves, ‘Stop, STOP!’
Kate and I looked at each other.
‘My mother would have slapped me down if I carried on like that. It’d embarrass the pants off her,’ Kate said quietly.
I looked at her and then looked back at the woman who’d run down to the water. The child was laying face down. A wave must have knocked her over. The screaming had stopped and the child sobbed in her mother’s arms.
‘Karma,’ Kate said.
‘She’s only a child,’ I said gruffly.
‘Chill out. I was only joking. I don’t believe in any of that stuff anyway.’
‘Wonder what time it is?’ I looked at the position of the little red sun. The smoke haze made it hard to tell, but I guessed it to be about ten o’clock. Even though the sun was covered it still emitted a burning heat. Looking at the position of the sun in the sky to tell the time, was a habit I’d maintained from living on the farm.
‘It’s going to be a scorcher, I reckon.’
Kate laughed. ‘That sounds like real bush talk.’
‘Where I come from, that’s how we talk.’
‘Was it hard to adjust to city lingo? Did you have to stop talking about the weather?’ Kate sounded serious.
I laughed. ‘I can get away with talking a bit of weather because of surfing, but my friends’ eyes glaze over when I start talking about how close the isobars are. But how hard is city talk? I mean, yo, ho, bro. Get real. That was the easy part.’
‘Up my way everyone thinks they come out of a rap record or somewhere totally unreal, like the streets of LA. I’d love to drop them all off there and say pick you up in a month, bro.’
‘Do you want to get something to eat?’
‘I’m starving. Which is the best place for breakfast?’ Kate rubbed her stomach.
It’s not too bad at the pavilion, depends what you want.’
‘Fresh juice, a cake and coffee.’
‘Over here, but we have to wash the sand off.’
We showered at the outdoor showers provided. The water felt colder than the sea, and it made me shiver. Other people queued behind us, hopping from foot to foot in an impatient manner, acting like we’d been under the shower all day. The tight feeling of salt on my face eased, and I left a small mound of sand near the plughole.
Our wetsuits were the kind that dried nearly instantly. They were full protection from the dangers of the ozone-depleted sun rays.
The café was crowded. There was a sign at the entrance asking patrons to keep the sea and sand where they belonged – on the beach, not inside the café. Most of the customers were in bathers. The ones fully dressed looked out of place. The clock on the back of the wall said nine-thirty. We ordered and the waitress gave us a number and said she’d bring it to us.
We were lucky. A couple sitting outside left just as we arrived. I observed the snapshot of morning life on parade at Bondi. The air was filled with different languages and heavy accents as snippets of conversation passed us by. I tried to guess people’s origins by their conversations, dress and manner. Everything seemed clearer somehow, people’s voices, birdsong, and the hissing of the coffee machine. The sea looked placid, as if it were harmless. I knew better. I’d read about freak waves. I worried slightly about my previous spin-out.
‘Where you at?’ Kate asked.
‘Nowhere.’
‘Really, what’s it like?’
I ignored the question.
‘Actually, I was thinking about all those people playing harmlessly in the water, as if there were nothing in the world to worry about. They don’t know how dangerous their situation could be.’
‘What are you on about? You’re weird.’ Kate looked out to sea. ‘What danger? Sharks, what?’
‘Have you heard of Black Sunday?’ I asked ominously.
‘Was there a massacre or something?’ Kate’s eyes were wide.
‘Probably, but that’s not what I’m talking about. This happened on a very hot day nearly seventy years ago.’
‘Don’t suppose there were any Aborigines left to massacre by then.’
‘Do you want to hear what happened?’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘Well the sea may have looked like it does today, you know, the calm before the storm bit. Out of nowhere, three huge freak waves smashed down on the beach, dragging more than three hundred people out into the deep.’
I looked at the sea and tried to envisage ten-metre waves at the water’s edge. It would be a giant wall of water and the sound it would make when it crashed upon the shore would be louder than a huge bomb.
‘No way.’
‘It’s true. Lifesavers rescued over three hundred people, but five people drowned, which isn’t bad really, considering. Imagine how much worse it could have been?’
‘Yeah three hundred and five people drowned!’ Kate laughed.
‘It’s not funny,’ I said, once again a bit shocked at Kate’s insensitivity to death. Maybe no one close to her had ever died. I’d try and ask her one day. ‘It could happen again, any day, even today,’ I added for good measure.
We both stared at the water. It seemed unlikely, even to me, that there would be a repeat of history, today.
‘Surfers call it the lagoon, when it’s like this,’ I said as I nibbled my Danish pastry.
‘I can see why. It’s hard to believe half an hour ago we were riding waves.’
‘It might be
good this afternoon. Usually is if you’ve had a good morning.’
‘What are you going to do today?’ Kate asked.
‘I’m going to the movies with my friends Phoebe and Jasmine. I’m meeting them at one in the city. Do you want to come?’
‘Thanks but I can’t really. I’ve got to do the washing and clean up the flat. My sister gets back this afternoon and I’ve sort of blobbed and created a comfortable mess. She’d go off if she came home now.’
I laughed. ‘What’s your sister like?’
‘She’s very fussy about the apartment. Everything has a place and everything has to be in its place. She’s always tense, doesn’t know how to relax. I think it’s her job because even when she’s not at work, she’s working. So boring.’
‘I don’t even know her name.’
‘Sorry, it’s Carol. If you come over later you’ll meet her.’
‘Sure. I’ll see how I feel when I get back from the movies.’
‘Do you have a part-time job or do you get an allowance?’
‘No, I don’t have a job. My aunt gives me pocket money and sometimes pays me for doing extra things.’
‘Do you live with your aunt? Where’s your mum and dad?’ Kate looked surprised.
‘They’re dead.’ I paused and shaped my lie to sound normal. ‘They died in a car accident.’ I held my breath.
‘I … I … didn’t know, that’s terrible.’ Kate hugged me. ‘You poor thing.’
I was sorry I lied, but it was easier. I’ve practised the car-accident answer for ages now. I believe it myself sometimes. When I’d told Aunt Jean the lie I told if anyone asked why I lived with her instead of my parents, Aunt Jean said she thought it was my prerogative to lie for self protection. As usual Aunt Jean quoted something to say it was sort of okay. I remember the quote being something like never lying was like having no lock on your door. There was more, but I can’t remember the rest.
‘What’s your aunt like?’
‘Old, you know, over forty. She tries, but god, sometimes she just goes on and on. Do you want to meet her, sometime?’
‘I wondered when you’d invite me.’
‘Aunt Jean works all week.’
‘What’s she do?’
‘She’s a bloody liar, oops I mean lawyer.’
‘Why did you say liar?’
‘I believe lawyers sometimes know someone’s guilty and they make up lies to make them sound innocent.’
‘It sounds like you’ve had first-hand experience or something.’
‘No, not really. I watch TV and Aunt Jean tells me about some of the tricks that go on in the courtroom.’ I lied, again.
‘Do you think your aunt’s a liar?’
‘I think it’s her job sometimes to lie, but as a person, I don’t think she lies much.’
‘Everyone lies, I suppose,’ Kate said.
I felt a pang of guilt about my lies to my new friend.
‘I won’t be able to afford this breakfast thing every morning you know,’ I said, changing the subject.
‘Me either. It’s a treat.’ Kate held up her juice. ‘To our first day surfing together.’
We touched glasses.
‘May the surfing goddess who rules the ocean give us a go at the northern break,’ Kate said earnestly.
‘You’re a kook.’
‘That’s me. Kooky Kate.’ Kate put this stupid look on her face.
‘Stop it.’
I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. Kate adjusted back to normality after a few grunts and groans. I couldn’t help but laugh.
We finished our breakfast and trudged back towards Ben Buckler. Walking through the Biddigal Reserve, Kate admired the mosaic dragon in the playground.
‘I’m going to photograph this park later,’ Kate said as we crossed the road.
‘I’m into photography, too. That’s cool.’
‘I was right, Jules. We were meant to meet. The universe decided we’d be good friends, like sisters.’
I felt good. We discussed photography as we walked up the steep street to my intersection.
‘Wish I lived on this street,’ I said, groaning.
We both looked at the steep rise.
‘It’s good for you,’ Kate laughed.
My legs already ached from surfing as I trudged those last long steps home.
CHAPTER 4
Tuesday Afternoon
I walked into the cool entrance of the building. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkened hallway. I got my key out of the pocket in my wetsuit.
Aunt Jean had left me a note to ring her.
What could be wrong now, I naturally thought.
When I rang, Aunt Jean was out of the office. I left a message with her secretary.
I decided to do my washing. I didn’t want to hang it on the roof as it absorbed all the smoke smell. I stripped my bed and gathered up clothes and took them to the laundry situated on the roof. I loaded the washing machine and turned it to the right cycle. I’d hang it on the airing rack inside, I thought.
I went back downstairs and could hear the phone ringing. I ran along the hall but it stopped before I got the door open.
The light flashed red on the answering machine. It was Jasmine asking if I remembered where the meeting place was. They’d both forgotten where we’d arranged, so I quickly rang them both, and told them. I vacuumed the lounge room and swept the kitchen floor. The windows needed washing but they’d wait for another day. I’d been saying that about the windows all holidays. Mañana windows, mañana. I danced around the kitchen with the mop, filling the bucket, as I sang at the top of my voice a song I made up.
After washing the floor, I went into my room and opened the top drawer of my bedside dresser. I could see the envelope I’d put there last year. I’d never opened it. It was from my father. Staring at it as if any minute it was going to bite me, I wished I had the courage to open it and read it. The letter stayed unread as I struggled with my emotions. I grabbed a clean pair of undies and shut the drawer. Mañana, there’s always mañana, I told myself as I headed to the bathroom.
Under the shower, I thought about the huge shock I’d got the first time I saw Dad in the courtroom at his trial. I almost didn’t recognise him. He’d shrunk. A pain had ripped through my gut and I almost fell over, when I realised it was him. My legs shook and I had to hold myself up against Aunt Jean. I’d stared for a few moments, without Dad seeing. I noticed his eyes were so sad. They looked like a cartoon drawing of pleading soulful eyes. I’d turned away and didn’t look at him again. My heart was in turmoil because all I could think about were his eyes.
After the first day of court I cried for hours all over the house. Sometimes I wept in my room, in the lounge room, kitchen, even out on the balcony. I sat up nearly all night crying, but still had to go to court the next day. I’d worn sunglasses to cover my swollen red eyes.
Why was I thinking about my father? Bloody hell, the stupid letter. I was angry that I couldn’t bring myself to read it or destroy it. Under the tepid stream I washed thoughts of my father and his stupid letter down the plughole and concentrated on meeting my friends.
I had to rush because I’d stayed in the shower longer than I intended. I just had time to buy a newspaper and climb aboard the bus with about half a dozen others. The bus ride was uneventful. People eyed each other suspiciously. No one smiled anymore because there didn’t seem much to smile about because of the terror and mayhem occurring everywhere. The world seemed pretty mucked up at the moment. I stopped reading the paper I’d bought. It was all horrible and some of it so inane you wondered what the point of it all was. War, I thought, how stupid is that. Killing people or being killed by people in an organised manner, and they call us civilised. Dropping bombs on people’s homes and lives. What about the children? Are they bad and dangerous as well? Do they have to be blown up?
In school I’d learnt that more than a thousand years ago this guy Cicero wrote, ‘laws are silent in war’. My cl
ass had to write what we understood that to mean in the present context. I enjoyed writing that essay and got an A for it. I must admit Aunt Jean helped a little bit. In fact she’d had the very same essay topic when she was at school. I must admit that was a concern that the curriculum hadn’t changed in over twenty years but I smiled at the memory of Aunt Jean going on and on with all the arguments against war. I had a habit of tuning out when she went on like that, occasionally remembering to nod and agree, but this time I’d listened and I think it helped get me the A.
The bus slowed down near the shimmering trees of Hyde Park. Office workers were everywhere, trying to catch a bit of the daily sun. I got off at Central and walked down to George Street. I waited at the corner before the cinema complex. There was a steady stream of people walking both ways. I could smell smoke merging with the traffic pollution and oil-slicked roads. I looked up at the grey sky. Not with rain, but smoke haze. It was hot and the air was thick. The buildings created a blanket of sky above, as I strained my neck, looking up.
‘Hey, watch out for bird shit.’
‘Phoebe.’ We hugged, shrieking so that several passers-by had to give us a wide berth.
Jasmine covered my eyes from behind. ‘Guess whom it ees,’ said a stupid voice, trying to sound Russian or something.
‘Jasmine, you’re a nutcase.’ I hugged her. We linked arms and strode down the street.
At the cinema we had to wait in line to buy our tickets.
‘Are we going to get any crap?’ Phoebe pointed to the cinema kiosk with its overpriced junk food.
‘I might get a drink and maybe one of those choccoated ice-creams,’ I replied.
‘I’m getting lollies so I can unwrap them noisily and annoy people. Maybe chips to crunch as well,’ Jasmine said.
I wasn’t sure if she was joking. Probably not, it was the sort of thing that amused Jasmine. It was usually harmless, but occasionally I’d get a bit nervous that she’d mess with the wrong people.
‘You queue. I need to go to the toilet.’ Phoebe crossed her legs and acted as if she was busting.
‘Me too.’ Jasmine copied Phoebe.
They gave me their money. I waited patiently as the line inched forward. It seemed like it was training day, because the same people seemed to be waiting at the front. I could tell the staff were trying to keep it together. Some of the customers were getting rude and abusive. Behind the counter this older guy, with a red bow tie, flapped around trying to get control. Whose fault was it that the drink machine had run out of ice, he demanded. People started leaving the line. I stuck it out.
Still Waving Page 4
