Deadly Sky (ePub), The

by Hill, David

  Napoleon was there, in grey trousers and a dazzling white shirt. Lily, in a cream dress with white gloves on her hands. Alicia, too, in a white dress, with a red flower in the back of her long hair. She looks amazing, gabbled the voice in Darryl’s head.

  Lily wore a huge white hat, with more flowers in its brim. She passed another, equally huge, flower-packed hat to Darryl’s mum, who put it on. ‘How do I look?’ she asked him. ‘OK,’ he went, and for some reason, all three women burst out laughing.

  The bells had begun again. They made their way up through the trees, among a crowd of others in bright dresses and white shirts. The open space in front of Saint-Michel’s was packed with people. Was— Oh no, she was: Lannya and her friend from the other morning rushed forward, squeaking ‘Licia! Licia!’ The girl hugged them both again. Before Darryl could do anything, a five-year-old hand had slipped into his, and he was being led inside. He felt the back of his neck turning red.

  They all settled onto a pew near the front. He was between his mother and Napoleon, with Alicia on the far side of her uncle, and with Lannya still further away (phew!). He glimpsed Principal Kara, Noah, the other trade school girls, and a group of old women, among them the woman he’d seen on the beach, Noah’s grandma.

  The priest appeared and began to speak. First in French, then in Mangarevan. This meant Alicia could speak three languages. He felt ignorant.

  The crosses above the altar were studded with pearls also. The whole church glowed with colour. The congregation burst into song, pouring out the music. His mother stood, smiling. He stood not knowing how to look. French? Mangarevan? He had no idea, but it sounded great. Beside him, Napoleon boomed away. From next to her uncle, Alicia’s voice soared.

  They sat. Father Pierre was speaking in English, slowly and carefully. ‘Welcome again … visitors from la Nouvelle Zélande … Thank you. You bring our young people good things.’ Everyone turned to smile at Darryl and his mum.

  Father Pierre went on. ‘We pray for your good travel, and your family.’ Family – Dad. Darryl glanced sideways at his mother, but she was watching the priest. ‘We pray for our daughter Alicia, as she travels too.’ The priest nodded to the girl, who looked down. ‘For our men who sail out to fish. And for our son, Raoul.’ Father Pierre turned towards the other aisle.

  Raoul? Darryl stared. The young man was there, smiling back at the priest, but his face looked strained. He and Alicia must have had a major row, all right.

  Still more singing. Prayers. When they filed outside, men and women kept coming up to shake his and his mother’s hands, and to smile and murmur in French. ‘Thank you,’ Darryl kept going. ‘Mercy. Thank you.’ I’m going to learn a foreign language next year at school, he told himself once more.

  Raoul was over to one side with Principal Kara. Whatever they were talking about, it didn’t seem friendly. The older man stood, hands on hips, head thrust forward. Raoul’s arms were folded; he glared back. Principal Kara supports the bomb, Darryl remembered. He was probably telling Raoul a thing or two.

  At last, no adults were left in front of them. But someone else was. Little Lannya beamed up at Darryl and lifted her arms. He glanced around. Nobody was watching. Quickly, he bent down and kissed the small figure on both cheeks. When he straightened up, also quickly, Alicia and Lily and his mother and Napoleon and half of Mangareva were all watching and smiling.

  ‘Alicia must prepare for Sunday,’ Lily told them at lunch. ‘Napoleon and I will rest for a time.’ She smiled. ‘Singing is very hard work. What will you do?’

  ‘Darryl and I are going for a walk,’ replied his mother. ‘We’re going to explore more of your lovely island.’

  Darryl stared at her. We are?

  Another smile from Lily as she left. ‘You will enjoy.’

  She left the room. Darryl’s mum smiled at him, too. ‘That all right, son? We’ll have a walk.’ She paused. ‘And we’ll have a talk. About your dad.’

  SEVENTEEN

  They set off in the direction of Mount Duff, up through the trees where the guy had given Darryl that gigantic orange, two days before. They turned onto a different track winding along above the sea. ‘Napoleon says Mangareva is too small to get lost on,’ Darryl’s mother smiled. ‘Let’s hope he’s right.’

  A couple of pigs lifted snouts from an interesting hole and watched them go by. Someone was singing in a house set back among the trees; otherwise everything was quiet. The two New Zealanders walked on silently as well.

  ‘Just a day and two bits left,’ Mrs Davis said. ‘It’s gone so fast. Enjoyed yourself here, Da?’

  Darryl thought about Alicia going on and on about the tests. He thought about the embarrassing little Lannya, of hardly understanding any French, of having no TV and having to eat fish all the time. ‘Yeah,’ he went, totally truthfully. ‘Yeah, it’s been brilliant.’

  They made their way into the trees on the far side. Below them, the Pacific glittered through gaps in the thick green leaves. ‘I know your dad and I have had a bad spell.’ His mum’s eyes were on the beaten-earth track. ‘But he and I both want things to work, still.’

  On, between tall trunks, Darryl kicked aside some broken husks of coconuts. ‘Like I said, I’m going to write to him as soon as we get home. I’d ring him from here, except we’re in one of the few places in the world that has no telephones.’

  Darryl didn’t look at his mother, but he was listening to every word.

  ‘He loves you, you know.’ Darryl’s stomach tightened as his mum spoke. ‘Remember you asked why we broke up, and I said I didn’t really know? Well, after Grandad Davis died, your dad wanted to do something different, go somewhere exciting, like Grandad did in the war. I think he had to prove he could be brave, too. But I wanted to stay home until you were finished at school.’

  They came out on a shoulder of rough grass; the sea beneath them, clear blue sky overhead.

  ‘Your father’s a brave man whatever he does, son. I love him, and I know you do, too. We’re going to see what we can do.’

  Darryl heard his mother’s voice catch. He turned to her, opened his mouth, even though he didn’t have a clue what to say. Her arms went around him, and she hugged him so hard that he felt his breath go ‘Hmmpff!’ There were tears on her cheeks. And what was that on his cheeks? Perspiration – surely.

  The track looped down towards the shore. In another clearing, a pile of big stones lay heaped. They’d walked in silence for the past few minutes, but it was an easy, relaxed silence. A smile kept pulling at Darryl’s mouth. Be great to have both parents nagging him again.

  ‘I wonder if that was one of the temples those priests made people pull down,’ said Mrs Davis, as they paused to gaze at the stones. ‘They’ve had a lot of bad times on some of these islands – and it still goes on.’

  An orange and blue butterfly glided down, settling on one of the stones. ‘Mum,’ Darryl heard himself ask, ‘what do you think about the bomb?’

  His mother nodded slowly. ‘It’s not easy, is it? I hate the idea that it could kill so many innocent people, maybe ruin the whole world. But maybe nuclear weapons can save lives, too.’

  The butterfly’s wings were spread, glowing in the sunlight. ‘How do you feel about it?’ asked Darryl’s mother.

  Everything he’d read and thought seemed to blaze through Darryl’s mind at once. The warships capsizing; the burned faces and bodies after Hiroshima; the protest marchers; Alicia going on and on; what she’d told him about those animals on the ship. The dead turtle.

  ‘I … I don’t know,’ he said.

  They were sitting down to dinner when Napoleon came quickly into the room. ‘Excuse me. Alicia is here?’

  There was no sign of the girl. Napoleon went into the kitchen, spoke to Lily, came out again, and stood biting his lip. ‘Is something wrong?’ Mrs Davis asked.

  The big man hesitated. ‘A person has made damage at the school. There is – I do not know the word – a dummy of a person is hanging from a wall. I
t has paint on it, red and black like blood and fire. A sign say: Vive Les Essais Nucléaires. Long Life to the Nuclear Tests.’

  The New Zealanders stared. Napoleon glanced sideways, then strode out the door. Next moment, he was talking fast to Alicia, who had appeared, broom in hand. The girl looked bewildered; shook her head.

  It’s not her, Darryl knew. He pictured Principal Kara and Raoul by the church, and the anger between them. He thought of the red paint on the government building. What useless things to do. Who’s going to take notice of what happens on this little island?

  Still, he decided, it would be better for everyone when Raoul was off Mangareva.

  ‘I need to go back to the school for a while this morning,’ Mrs Davis said at breakfast on Saturday. ‘One of the other girls is starting to think about coming to New Zealand, like Noah.’ She gazed through the open door at the bright day. ‘I wish Alicia would.’

  Actually, she— Darryl thought. But Lily was arriving, with big, steaming cups of coffee. ‘You go tomorrow,’ she sighed. ‘We will miss you.’

  ‘We’ll miss you,’ Darryl’s mother told her. The two women held hands for a moment. Then Lily smiled. ‘Tonight, we give you party.’

  Darryl glanced up in alarm. He didn’t like parties, never knew what to do at them.

  ‘Friends come, people from church,’ Lily went on. ‘To say goodbye to you and Alicia. And to Raoul. He is in bad mood.’ Darryl glanced at her again; she was shaking her head. Had she guessed who’d left that dummy thing at the school? Finally she forced a smile, and said: ‘Napoleon goes for food. Others bring fish.’

  ‘You should go, too,’ Darryl’s mum told him. ‘Is that all right, Lily?’

  The other woman smiled again. ‘Yes. Good. You will make the husband work hard!’

  Darryl shrugged. ‘OK.’

  Darryl waited outside the lodge, scuffing the toe of his sandal in the gritty path, and gazing into the trees behind the buildings. What was that business between Alicia and Raoul the other night? Was there something in the brown bag that she’d taken from him and he wanted back? Money or something?

  A boat with half a dozen figures on it sliced a white wake across the glittering water, heading away from the island. The motor cut out for a second, then started again. The boat slid on.

  Someone was watching him. He turned, and caught Alicia’s eye where she stood by the corner of the dining room. They both looked away. ‘Bonjour,’ she offered after a second.

  ‘Hi,’ Darryl muttered.

  ‘You go with my uncle?’

  Darryl nodded. ‘Yeah.’ They were both silent again.

  Two days ago, on the reef, they had talked so easily; now he couldn’t think of a thing to say. ‘You should ask Raoul about the plane,’ he mumbled, finally.

  The girl’s head came up. Her whole body flinched. ‘Je ne— Why? Why I ask him?’

  Darryl stared. ‘You said you were nervous about the plane. He’s a pilot – he could explain.’

  Her eyes stayed fixed on him, but she seemed to relax slightly. ‘I do not need to ask him. I am all right!’ She turned and strode off.

  You’re not all right, Darryl fumed, as he watched her go. You’re a rude, stupid, irritating – girl!

  An engine started up behind the lodge and the open-topped Land Rover appeared. ‘Bonjour, Dah-reel,’ Napoleon grinned. ‘You are my helper? Hold on for the ride.’

  Darryl held on. He needed to. They bumped up a dirt road between trees and houses, bounced up a rutted track between shrubs and rocks to the top of a ridge, bucked down an even more rutted track between grunting pigs and squawking chickens, to an orchard of trees on the other side. By the time they stopped, Darryl felt as though he’d spent ten minutes inside a concrete mixer.

  Napoleon handed him a couple of baskets. ‘You pick the oranges?’ He produced the same gleaming machete he’d had the other day. ‘I cut the vegetables, is right? Lily say you must not lose fingers or toes before party.’

  They worked side by side. The sun was warm on their backs. Treetops murmured; insects droned. It’s going to seem so noisy back home, Darryl thought.

  ‘So Alicia goes to Tahiti for the first time,’ Napoleon said, as he levered up what looked like kumara. ‘Big adventure for her.’

  Darryl remembered how she’d behaved by the lodge, just half an hour before. He mumbled something.

  ‘She will work in hotels for five days there,’ Napoleon went on. ‘She will learn much.’ Like how to be polite, maybe? thought Darryl.

  Napoleon’s next words almost made him drop the basket he held. ‘She is lucky. Raoul will help her, stop her being angry about the tests and bomb.’

  Darryl’s head spun. The memory of Raoul, angry-faced and sign-waving in that protest march, slid past him again. So Napoleon and Lily didn’t know about that. Did Alicia? She must, surely?

  He tried to understand as they bumped, bounced and bucked back over the hill to the lodge. Something was going on between those two. Then he realised – Alicia was probably scared she wouldn’t be allowed to go to Tahiti if Lily learned about Raoul being a protestor, too. Yeah, that must be it.

  ‘I’m just going to sit and relax,’ his mother announced at lunch. Yeah, Darryl decided. Me, too.

  They did their packing, since the flight to Tahiti was leaving soon after breakfast. Then his mother sat under a tree and thumbed through some of the French magazines. He read also – re-read about Hiroshima and the bomb they’d called ‘Little Boy’. This time when he looked at the photos of bodies or burned, injured victims, it was people he saw. People who never knew what had happened to them. He sighed silently. What he’d said to his mother was true: he just didn’t know.

  He turned the pages, read a few more bits. The drone of an aircraft made him look up. A plane: must be the one arriving from Papeete; the one they’d be on tomorrow. As Darryl watched, it altered course, turning out to sea. It curved in a wide circle, almost out of sight, reappeared, curved again. Were they doing some sight-seeing? Some sea-seeing, more like it. The plane came into view once more, descending towards the airport. Darryl turned back to his book.

  Footsteps, and his mother going ‘Oh, thank you, dear’ made him glance up. Alicia was there with two drinks in tall glasses.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, as she handed him one.

  He waited for the stare. Instead, the girl smiled. ‘Your friend comes to the party tonight.’ She saw Darryl’s puzzled look, and smiled wider. ‘Lannya.’ She saw Darryl’s puzzled look change to one of horror, and laughed out loud.

  I don’t know about her, either, Darryl decided as she moved away.

  Five seconds later, the shouting started.

  EIGHTEEN

  A man’s voice called suddenly from further up the hill. A moment later, others began yelling. A woman screamed.

  Darryl scrambled to his feet. His mother stood, too. Alicia, still carrying the tray, spun towards the rising voices.

  A flurry of movement, and a figure burst out of the trees. The man who had given him the orange on Wednesday afternoon. He plunged towards the dining room, shouting. Napoleon appeared in the doorway.

  A crash as tray and glasses hit the ground. Alicia’s hands were clamped to her mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ Darryl asked.

  Napoleon and the other man began running, sprinting towards the beach. ‘You come!’ Lily’s husband shouted to Darryl as he charged past. ‘We need people!’

  Alicia was running, too. ‘What’s wrong?’ Darryl went again, as he raced to catch up. ‘What’s happened?’

  The girl’s eyes were stretched wide. ‘The fishing boat sink. Plane sees it and radios.’ She half-wheeled to where Lily was calling out to Mrs Davis. ‘Your mother stay; help my auntie. They need blankets.’

  The plane, Darryl realised as they ran on. That’s why it was circling.

  Ten metres ahead, Napoleon and the other man galloped towards the far end of the beach. More men and women rushed from the trees, all running in the same direction
.

  ‘Noah,’ panted Alicia. ‘He is on the boat!’ Darryl’s back crawled.

  They pounded past where the reef reached out into the sea. At the furthest point of the beach, people had begun thrashing their way into the water, hauling at a canoe and a dinghy with an outboard motor. Within seconds, both craft were heading out to sea. The yelling went on. Fingers stabbed at the horizon.

  Darryl shaded his eyes, trying to see. It was 300, 400 metres out, a speck on the heaving blue. A boat? Too small. A life raft, he realised, and his skin crawled again.

  Women wailed. Men yelled. More canoes were being dragged towards the water.

  ‘How many people?’ Darryl gasped to Alicia. ‘On the boat?’

  She didn’t answer; her eyes were fixed on the distant, tossing speck, hands clenched into fists. Then Darryl remembered what Lily had said about the fishing boats being damaged by having to sail further, in dangerous waters.

  Two more canoes surged out into the waves. Napoleon was crouched in one, driving a paddle into the water, teeth gritted. Alicia stood silently, hugging herself, biting her lip. Her father. She’s remembering her father, Darryl thought.

  Men and women waded into the surf, staring out towards where the little rescue flotilla sped. The canoes and dinghy were just specks themselves now. They seemed to be clustering together, Darryl saw. What was—

  ‘They come back!’ Alicia shouted. She must have eyes like binoculars, Darryl marvelled. Then he saw that she was right: the far-off specks were slowly growing larger. Were the crew safe? Was Noah …?

  Those on the beach had gone silent. On the sand and in the water, everyone stared wordlessly.

  A voice boomed across the water. Napoleon’s: Darryl recognised it instantly. A storm of cheers and more crying erupted. ‘They are safe,’ Alicia sobbed, and Darryl saw that she was weeping. ‘All are safe!’ Relief flooded through him.

  Men waded into the surf, seizing the prows of the arriving boats. Darryl flung himself in, too, clutching a dangling rope, heaving with all his strength, helping haul it onto the sand. Drenched figures tumbled from the rescue craft, mouths open, bodies shaking. Darryl seized one as he stumbled, kept him upright.