by D C Grant
Chapter Nine
When he walked into the bach his parents were sitting in the lounge with a woman and a boy of about Josh’s age. The boy glanced up at Josh from beneath a long, sweeping fringe and then looked away again, almost shyly.
“Hi, Josh,” said his mother as he came in. “This is Penny and her son, Hayden.” She stopped when she noticed his skinned knee. “What happened to your leg?”
“I fell on Pakiti Rock. I was going to the Gap, looking for you, Dad,” Josh said, grabbing a glass and making his way toward the fridge.
“We’ve been back a while,” his father said. “I went up to the store on the way back for a coffee and the paper. Your Mum said you’d gone to find us, but I guessed you’d be back in your own time.”
“Are you all right?” his mother asked, starting to get out of her chair. “Did you go to the club for first aid?”
“Chris had a look,” Josh said, twisting the truth a little. “He said it was alright, just needed cleaning out, which I did.” He grabbed the orange juice from the fridge.
“Will you be going surfing today?” his mother asked, settling herself back into her chair.
“No, I’ll just take it easy.”
“Oh, I was hoping you could take Hayden surfing.”
Josh remembered then that his mother had said something about teaching the boy next door to surf. He looked over at Hayden as he poured the juice into a glass. He had light brown hair, fair skin and long, thin limbs. He would get sucked under by the first real wave that hit Piha Beach.
“Can he swim?” Josh asked, knowing the question sounded rude but not really caring.
“Yes, I can,” Hayden said.
Josh found it hard to believe. “You have to be a strong swimmer to get out to the surf. It’s no use even trying if you can’t swim.”
“I can swim,” Hayden repeated. He sounded a little annoyed.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Josh said.
“That would be good,” his mother said. “Penny and I are going to the shops tomorrow. You and Hayden go surfing then.”
Josh, who was still in the kitchen, hid behind the open door of the fridge and rolled his eyes in exasperation, he didn’t want to babysit a grommet for the day. He’d have to think of a way to get out of it.
“I’m going to my room,” he said, taking the glass of fruit juice with him. He purposely closed his door just in case the two scheming women decided that it was a good idea for him and Hayden to ‘bond’. A few minutes later, to his relief, he heard the mother and son leave.
“I’m pleased you’ve agreed to teach Hayden to surf,” his mother said later, as they ate lunch.
“I didn’t agree. You just organised it for me.”
“Well, he seems nice.”
“Being nice doesn’t mean he’ll be a good surfer or that he’ll learn anything at all. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
“We know that,” his father said. “We just thought you could help, that’s all.”
“Well, I’ll give it a go and if he’s not much good, he can piss off.”
“Josh, that’s not very nice,” his mother protested.
“No one said I had to be nice. This is my holiday and everyone seems to be ruining it for me.”
“Josh, he just needs something to do, you know, to help him get over his father’s death,” his mother said.
“Who made me his crutch?” Josh asked.
“You don’t have to do this, Josh. All you had to do was say no.”
“I tried that, didn’t I? But none of you would listen but it’s all arranged now, so just leave it.”
He ate the rest of his lunch in resentful silence.
After lunch, he walked with his family to North Piha. His parents climbed the footpath to Te Waha Point while he built a sandcastle with Cyndi. He dug a deep moat around the lumpy looking construction and wished that he could build a moat around himself. It would protect him from Bevan’s attacks and from the changes in his life. He looked south where he could see Lion Rock and the Camel, one behind the other, standing strong against the waves. He should try to do the same, stand strong against the threat and not let Bevan spoil his holiday.
His parents started fighting after dinner. He was in his room, lying on his bed, reading an old surfing magazine when the raised voices reached him.
“You shouldn’t be going to the shops,” his father said. “We don’t have the money.”
“It’s my money!” his mother shouted. “I can do what I like.”
“But we’ve got bills to pay,” his father said.
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t gone bankrupt.”
“Do you have to bring that up again?”
“Well, it’s hard not to.”
Josh grabbed his iPod and pushed the earpieces in his ears, but the music couldn’t block out the sounds of the fight.
His door opened slightly and Cyndi peered around the edge, a frightened look on her face and a doll in her hand. He sat up and smiled at her, removing the earbuds from his ears.
“What’s wrong, Cyndi?” he asked, although he knew what the answer was.
“Why are Mummy and Daddy shouting?”
“Sometimes grown-ups shout at each other.”
“Why?”
“They’re just cross.” He got up from his bed and came over to her. “They’ll stop soon. I’ll take you back to your room and I’ll stay with you a while, okay?”
She nodded and he guided her back to her bedroom. His parents were still fighting and didn’t see them moving down the passage. He tucked Cyndi into her bed and sat in the chair next to it. He pulled out one of her storybooks and read to her softly by the dim glow of her night-light until her eyelids closed and her breathing slowed. His parents finally stopped arguing but an uneasy tension permeated the house. Josh put down the book gently and crept from the room to his own bed.
