Clearwater Bay 1- Flying Changes

by Kate Lattey

  By the time I get home, the wind has picked up until it’s shaking the entire house. Chewy is delighted to see me and rushes over when I come in the door, bounding and slobbering all over me. I tell him to go sit on his mat, and he crawls over there with his tail between his legs, whimpering. I ignore him and go upstairs, putting my iPod on to drown out the storm, but it doesn’t work. I’ve never in my life heard wind so loud. Our house being surrounded by overgrown bush makes the wind even louder than normal, ripping noisily through the branches. The rumbling and roaring is occasionally punctuated by a high whistling that adds to the din, and the windows are rattling in their panes. Now I know how Dorothy felt when her house was ripped from its foundations and flown into the air, and I get a sudden clenching in my stomach as I wonder whether New Zealand gets tornados. From my bedroom window I can see the steel grey ocean, its angry white waves hammering against the shore.

  I try to email Becky, but our internet connection is down, undoubtedly due to the storm. I check the time again and find myself wondering where Dad is. I send Alec a text message asking if the ponies are okay, but without much hope of a reply. He’s probably still out in the storm trying to get the stock in.

  I take my iPod off and lie back on my bed, listening to the howling gale and trying to reassure myself that it’s nothing to get worried about. I let my thoughts drift and I wonder what Becky’s up to at this very moment. I imagine her out riding Rio, hacking across the common or schooling in the proper dressage arena, until I realise that it’s about four in the morning in England right now and she’s no more likely to be out riding than I am. A painful creaking sound breaks through my thoughts and then an almighty crash as one of the trees in the backyard smashes to the ground. The house shudders on its foundations as the timber hits the earth. I sit frozen for a moment, but it seems to have missed the house. I take a deep breath and glance out the window again in time to see Dad pull up outside.

  I go down into the kitchen, watching him through the window as he struggles against the gale, doubled over, driving himself through the overgrown grass and onto the porch. I’m glad I came home when I did, because I would have been blown back down the valley if I’d tried to walk back from the Harrisons’ now. The howling beast outside roars even louder as Dad opens the door and the wind comes buffeting into the room, causing the kitchen curtains to flap around and make snapping noises. Chewy whimpers and sinks lower into his bed as Dad slams the door hard behind himself, and the windows rattle loudly once more before relative calm is restored.

  “Phew!” Dad grins at me. “Bit of a breeze out there.”

  “Understatement of the year,” I tell him.

  He grins and looks over at Chewy, whose tail is pounding the ground in happiness at seeing Dad, but he’s too scared of the storm to even get up.

  “Fraidy dog,” he tells Chewy with a shake of his head. “Some farm animal you’ve turned out to be.” He sinks down at the kitchen table and I head over to flick the kettle on.

  “Fancy a cup of tea?” I ask him, then blush as I realise just how English I can be sometimes without being conscious of it.

  “Cuppa would be great,” Dad says as he gets to his feet and heads to his bedroom to change out of his suit, as he always does the moment he gets home from work. “Make mine a coffee though. Two sugars.”

  I stand watching the wild thrashing of the trees outside while I wait for the jug to boil. It snaps off abruptly so I turn and press it on again. Unreliable piece of junk. Like almost everything else in this house, it needs upgrading. But the light doesn’t come back on, and I suddenly realise that the kitchen lights have gone out too.

  I can hear Dad’s barking laugh from his bedroom and he walks out again wearing jeans and a thick jersey. He meets my eyes as I ask the important question.

  “Tell me you have a backup generator.”

  He nods. “Sure do. It’s out in the garage, but it runs on diesel and I don’t think I have any.”

  “You’re kidding.” To his credit he does look suitably embarrassed, but honestly, the man is utterly hopeless.

  Seeing my face, he braves the wind again to head out to the shed, battling through the overgrown wilderness that he calls a back yard. I watch through the window as he rummages around the shed, then fights his way back across the lawn with something in his arms. The back door slams behind him and the windows rattle again.

  “Nope,” he tells me. “No diesel, the container’s completely dry. I was meaning to fill it, but I just kept forgetting. But I do have this,” he says, holding up a camping stove, “so at least now we can boil some water.”

  I roll my eyes as he lights the tiny stove, pours water into his smallest pot and perches it over the flame, then sits down at the table to wait for it to boil.

  “You know what they say about a watched pot, right?” I tease him as I bring the two mugs over to the table and sit down with him to wait, for lack of anything better to do.

  Twenty minutes later, we finally have our hot drinks and are sitting in the living room sipping at them and staring awkwardly at each other. Chewy is lying on the couch next to Dad, his huge drooling head buried in Dad’s lap. I blow gently on the surface of my tea, watching the ripples run across the surface.

  “How’s school?” Dad asks. His favourite conversation starter.

  “Fine.”

  “You’re on holiday now?”

  “Yep. Next two weeks.”

  “You seem to be making friends all right.”

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  He nods. “That’s good. And how’s the pony?”

  I smile at the thought of her. “She’s good. She was all fired up by the wind today though, so she didn’t jump very well, but hopefully it will have blown over by tomorrow or the horse truck will tip over on the road.”

  “Don’t want that,” Dad replies unnecessarily before draining off the last of his coffee and shaking the dog off his lap. He starts laying the fire and I watch idly. He’s clearly an old hand at this, rolling back onto his heels as the fire flickers into life and starts licking away at the wood stacked on top of the old newspapers.

  I tuck my cold feet underneath myself and blow on my tea some more. “When do you think the power will come back on?”

  “No idea. Probably when the storm dies down and they get a chance to assess the damage. Tomorrow sometime, maybe. No way of knowing really.”

  “Oh.” I sit quietly and sip the rest of my tea, watching the flickering flames. Dad stands up and stretches, then asks what I want for dinner.

  “Hmm. Roast chicken with Yorkshire pudding and lots of gravy,” I tell him and he laughs as he heads into the kitchen.

  “And for dessert?”

  “Chocolate cheesecake,” I reply, my mouth watering at the thought of it. “With fudge sauce and lots of cream.”

  “Sounds good,” he calls back. “We might be short of a few ingredients though.” I hear him rummaging in the cupboards for a while. “How about sausages and baked beans? I’ll fry a couple of eggs as well. You want bacon?”

  I stand up and head upstairs, telling him on my way past that I don’t like sausages but the rest is okay. There’s not much light in my bedroom but I pull my desk under the window to get the benefit of what light I can from outside. The only thing left to do is to make a start on my homework, and I’m midway through an algebra assignment when my cellphone bleeps. It’s Alec with one of his usual text messages that it takes me a moment to decipher.

  Ponys r al gud. How u enjoyn th st0rm?

  I text back quickly.

  Yeah brilliant NOT! A tree came down and we have no power - no diesel for generator!

  He doesn’t reply so I finish the algebra quickly and throw it onto the bed without checking my answers. My brain is feeling strained, so I take a break and start writing a letter to Becky. I tell her about the storm and recap Finn’s jumping performance today, doing my best to make my pony sound like she’s going better than she really is. Every time I ask afte
r Rio she tells me how well he’s doing and how he’s improved beyond recognition. I wonder idly if we are both embellishing the truth, but I’m not going to be the first one to back down if we are.

  Dad calls me from downstairs. “Jay, your friend’s here!”

  I jump up, wondering who is stupid enough to be driving around in this storm. There’s really only one person it could be, and glancing out the window, my suspicions are confirmed as I see Alec battling his way to the front door. I hurry downstairs to find him in the kitchen, handing a rusty metal can to Dad who is accepting it gratefully. They turn to look at me and I give Alec a quizzical look.

  “Diesel,” he explains.

  “Brilliant,” I grin at him. “Thanks heaps.”

  “It’s not much,” he admits. “But it’ll give you lights and a bit of hot water.”

  Dad invites Alec to stay for dinner, but he sees the mess on the stove and declines.

  “Some other time,” he tells Dad smoothly. “I gotta get back and help the old man check the stock. As it is he’s gonna be pissed when he finds out I’m up here instead of checking the fences in the creek paddock.”

  Dad shakes his head. “You be careful, driving around in this wind.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he assures him. “It’s not far. See you tomorrow Jay.”

  He gives a last wave as he shuts the door behind him, then runs back to his car, head down and shoulders hunched against the howling gale.

  “Not so bad after all, is he?” I tell Dad, unable to resist the opportunity to rub it in, how wrong he was about the Harrisons.

  “Seems like a good kid,” he agrees, turning back to the stove. “And he obviously likes you.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Well come on, he didn’t come over in the middle of a storm just to help me out,” Dad says with a smirk.

  I ignore him and go back upstairs to finish my letter, but it’s too dark now to see what I’m doing. I stare out the window at the thrashing trees as I think about what Dad said. It’s ridiculous. Alec is just a friend. He’s a nice guy, but he’s Alec. He’s skinny and freckly and goofy. Not my type at all – he’s more like my brother. I lower my head to my desk as I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. If Alec tries to be more than just friends with me, it’s going to wreck things forever, I just know it. And I can’t afford to lose any friends, not now. Not when things are finally starting to go well.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dawn is breaking, sending pale fingers of cold light across the hills that surround the Harrisons’ farmyard. Jess is being difficult, rearing and trying to bolt away from the truck, and we’ve been at it for some time when Liam comes out of the house and sees our predicament. He marches across the yard, picks up a piece of cut-off hosepipe and walks up behind the pony. I see the look on Alec’s face as his dad approaches, and he’s not happy. Liam tells his son to ‘walk her up’ and then cracks the mare around the rump with the piece of pipe when she plants her feet. The sound of the pipe hitting the pony echoes across the hills and rings in my ears. Jess starts to rear but earns another whack around the backside, so scrambles up the ramp and stands trembling in the truck. Alec quickly ties her up, his expression unreadable.

  Liam seems pleased with his result. “You’ve got to tell her who’s boss, Alec. You’re not going to get anywhere pussy-footing around with a horse like that. She needs discipline.”

  Alec doesn’t reply as he swings the partition closed, but his anger is clear in the set of his shoulders and the force with which he rams the bolt home. There’s a tension building between Alec and his dad, a rift that’s widening by the day. Liam stands at the base of the ramp, still clutching his piece of hosepipe, staring at his son and clearly finding him wanting in some way. We load the rest of the ponies without any problems, but Alec’s still silent, which is rare for him, and the atmosphere is tense. He hauls the ramp up, fastens the catch and walks straight to the cab without saying goodbye to his father.

  Liam calls out to his son’s retreating back. “Alec.”

  He barely raises his voice, but it carries in the morning air. Alec pauses slightly and turns. His dad raises the piece of hosepipe that is still in his hand.

  “You might want to take this with you.”

  It’s not really a question. He throws the piece of pipe towards his son, and Alec doesn’t move as it lands on the ground in front of him. His father frowns and walks over to Alec. Tabby turns to me.

  “Jay, can you check whether we packed Lucky’s martingale? I don’t remember seeing it in the truck.”

  I know it’s in there, but I gratefully take the opportunity to make myself scarce. Only last week Alec attempted to openly defy his dad, and had earned himself a whack across the head for his troubles. His dad’s got a violent streak that his son doesn’t share, and it’s almost as though Liam’s trying to beat it into him. Compared to a lot of other people, Alec can come across as being rough and ready with his ponies, but he doesn’t have a truly mean bone in his body. I’ve seen him be kind and gentle, settling nervy little Dolly at shows, calmly reassuring her that everything will be just fine if she agrees to trust him. And she always does.

  Alec genuinely loves his ponies. Especially Jess, the only one he has that I haven’t ridden. At first I’d asked to have a go on her, but he’d said the mare was too wild for me to handle. I’d been offended, but after a while I’d stopped asking, and now I wouldn’t get on her if he wanted me to. The pony is mad. She can go from a relaxed walk to a flat out gallop in seconds if something spooks her, and she won’t stop until she practically crashes into something. I’ve seen her buck, rear and spin around in circles. She’s completely unpredictable and I don’t even trust her on the ground. As far as I’m concerned, Alec’s welcome to her, and he relishes the challenge. For some reason, he loves that pony most of all. Perhaps it’s because no-one else would give her a chance, that they’d written her off as crazy, mean, dangerous. Alec admires her independent spirit, I think, and maybe he likes that she still has that strength of spirit, that she still challenges him every time he rides her. He can’t completely dominate her, and he doesn’t try. He wants a partnership with her. And slowly, slowly, his father is taking that away from him, bullying the mare and his son at the same time, seeking to fit them into the same mould, the only one he knows. The strong succeed while the weak fall behind.

  I snap out of my musing when I hear the truck engine start up. I dash across the upper deck of the woolshed and leap down onto the hard ground. My knees complain slightly but I keep running. On my way past the hay barn, I almost collide with Liam. He puts an arm out and grabs my shoulder, stopping me headlong.

  I stare up at him nervously, but he looks at me with those same hazel eyes his son has, crinkling at the corners in the same way as he smiles.

  “Easy there,” he says. “Don’t get left behind!”

  “I won’t,” I tell him quickly.

  He lets me go and walks on. It’s uncanny how he can be so calm after the intensity of his anger only moments before. He makes me uneasy, seeming as unpredictable as Jess. He calls back to me over his shoulder, wishing me luck before heading into the tractor shed. Only one thing can have put him in that kind of good mood so quickly, and I figure he must have won the argument with Alec.

  His son proves me right by being surly and untalkative. After half an hour of grunted conversation, Tabby pulls over and sends Alec to sit in the back with the ponies.

  “Is he okay?” I ask Tabby as Alec slams the cab door.

  “Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s just going through that stage with his dad. All boys go through it. Liam doesn’t want to admit that his son’s growing up and might have his own ideas about things.”

  Her tone is casual, but I notice how tightly she’s gripping the steering wheel, and I remember what Pip once told me when I’d asked about their older brother Brad.

  “He left home to work on a polo yard in Hastings. Dad was ready to kill him for walking out
, because he always figured he’d leave the farm to him, but Brad said Alec and I are welcome to inherit the place. He packed his bags on his sixteenth birthday and hasn’t been home since. He’s in Egypt now, working for some Sheik with an unpronounceable name. I doubt he’ll ever come home. Alec had better pull his head in if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Maybe your dad should go a bit easier on Alec, if he wants him to stick around,” I’d pointed out.

  Pip hadn’t met my eyes. “He does. Believe me. Alec’s had an easy ride so far.”

  Maybe today’s conflict is a sign of things to come, I think to myself. Tabby breaks me out of my reverie and asks how my woodwork project is going, and I groan and tell her that it’s abysmal. We chatter the rest of the way about inconsequential things, stopping for a second breakfast at McDonalds. Alec rejoins us in the cab at this point, a cup of hot coffee and a McMuffin having cheered him up. He seems to have completely cast off whatever anger he’d been carrying earlier. Most of the time, whatever you throw at him rolls off like water off a duck’s back. I don’t know how he lets things go so easily, but it’s nice to have him back to his usual wisecracking self.

  It’s still early as we reach the show grounds, and people are just beginning to stir. We drive past the yards, full of horses and ponies rugged against the elements, bandaged against potential injury and hooded against the dirt. The competitors who arrived last night are easy to spot, already hung over, stumbling around their trucks and muttering at their impatient horses. Tabby finds a parking spot under some trees, then pulls a headband out from her bag with two fluffy bunny ears attached to it and promptly puts it on. Alec groans and hits his head against the window.

  “Mum! No, please, take it off!”

  Tabby sticks her tongue out at him. “It’s festive, and anyway it’s a tradition now. Everyone would be disappointed if I didn’t wear it again.”

  Alec rolls his eyes at me, but I can’t help laughing at Tabby’s antics. How such a fun and happy person could have married a man like Liam Harrison I will never understand. As soon as the ponies are unloaded and settled by the truck, Alec disappears to find his friends who have made the trip over from Taranaki.