‘Sure, yes. You go ahead. I’ll join you in a sec.’
I watch him walk down to the water, skinny, arms like twigs, knock-kneed but striding. I feel a stab in my stomach at how vulnerable he is, and know that it’s our job now – mine and Mark’s – to keep this boy safe and happy. I fold the corner of my towel over Beau’s shell. The wind has picked up and I worry it might get blown away.
I follow Beau out into the sea, ploughing forward as the water deepens, holding my balance against the current, which is stronger than I’d expected. I look out at the inlet, the boundless expanse of sea, out to where the whitecaps are spaced far apart. I rise and fall on the ocean’s breath, lifted slowly then lowered.
There is nothing but ocean around us, water so clear the sunlight marbles my thighs and I can see the red nail polish on my toes. The swell raises my arms up. ‘Wave,’ Beau calls. He points at the water rising behind him. He’s excited, not scared. I give him a thumbs-up. He disappears under the churning water to come up on the other side. I marvel at how he knew to do that. He flicks wet hair from his face and we grin at one another. I turn and watch the wave melt to a spill as it touches the beach.
But something isn’t right. I feel sudden panic as Beau grows smaller right before my eyes. This current is dangerously strong. I should’ve noticed the rip. I call out to him, trying to hide the worry in my voice. He’s moving away from me quickly. There are no whitecaps where he is now. The water is darker. ‘Swim to the sand,’ I yell, but he’s not in control of where he’s going.
‘Sarah, Sarah.’ I want her to run for Mark, but she can’t hear me. We’re already too far out.
I tread water in my safe spot outside the rip while I figure out how I can get to Beau. There’s no easy way. I need to swim a large arc around the edge of the current then cut into it and allow it to pull me to him. Summoning my muscles and resolve, I remind myself I’m good at this, that the water was once my second home. ‘I’m coming,’ I shout to him.
I push through the water, strong arms and breath powering me. I pause, check I’m on track, adjust, then swim again. Once I’m close enough to feel the tug, I give over to the current and it flings me, like a slingshot, towards Beau. When I can, I reach out and grab his arm. He’s scared, panting.
We’re in the slipstream, being pulled out to deep water. But I know what to do, and that I can do it. And that he can, too. I nod to where the current swoops close to the shore. ‘We let the water take us there. Then swim diagonal to the beach.’ I draw a line in the air to show what I mean. ‘Breaking waves go to the sand.’ Entrusting ourselves to the waves. ‘We’ll be okay.’
With his arms tight around me, my eyes fixed on the shore, with full lungs and a strong heart, I swim.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My gratitude and love go to my partner Dave and older son Liam. But I’ve dedicated this book to my younger son, Milo, for bravery, kindness and wisdom in the face of adversity. The human body is both astonishing and ridiculous, and the number of ways it can cause pain seems to be limitless. I’m sorry you’ve had to experience the challenges you have. I’m in awe of you. And I love you.
Thank you to my agent, Jacinta di Mase, for your years of patience in guiding this story to a good home.
Thank you to PEN America for shortlisting an early version of this story for the Bellwether Prize. Your encouragement was life-changing.
Thank you to Canadian novelist Alissa York for sage feedback on the manuscript during my too-brief stay at the Banff Centre for Creativity; and to the talented, thoughtful group of writers I was blessed to meet while there.
Alissa only had time to walk me a certain way down the road. I am grateful (though wish there was a word bigger than this) for the more recent editorial guidance of Penguin Random House publisher Beverley Cousins and editor Tom Langshaw. You each offered advice that has made this story immeasurably better than it was. Thank you for your care and intelligence. And Beverley, thank you for taking a risk on me.
Thank you, Christa Moffitt, for your beautiful cover design. I dip my lid and am grateful.
Thank you to my brother Kevin Alexander, sisters-in-law Wendy Alexander and Kelly King, and nephews Joshua and Eli Alexander. You’ve been so supportive and encouraging. I want this book to succeed mostly so I don’t embarrass you!
Thank you to my Melbourne friends and neighbours for being patient with me. I know how annoying it is that I cancel dates and take forever to reply to messages. You mean the world to me, even though I’m garbage at showing that.
Thank you to the city of Brisbane. Anyone who grew up in Brisbane understands how complicated a relationship with a city can be. I love the place and couldn’t wait to get away from it, and I’m not sure I fully understand either of those responses. The city shaped me. As did the fact I was born in San Francisco but grew up in a harsh tropical Australian city – but that’s another story. Thank you to every person I knew at school, Queensland University, 4ZZZ and beyond. Thank you to Susan Attewell and Tony Moore for being the best housemates and friends through my youth, and the best humans I know. I say with deep respect that my Brisbane friends and family are more resilient, unflappable and astute than people I’ve met anywhere. One of the many things Brisbane taught me is to never judge a place by its elected officials. Sometimes you just don’t have much to choose from.
And though I never met Andrew McGahan, I owe him my thanks, too. Until I read his novel Last Drinks I didn’t know it was possible to write about my hometown and all its contradictions with honesty and affection. He was an incredible writer, gone too soon.
Kirsten Alexander was born in San Francisco, raised in Brisbane, and spent some years in London. She lives in Melbourne with her partner, two sons and two dogs. Her first novel was Half Moon Lake; this is her second.
Praise for Kirsten Alexander and Half Moon Lake
‘An impressive historical fiction debut . . . A captivating tale that explores the bonds between mother and child, the power of money and the importance of truth.’ Herald Sun
‘A gripping, nervy tale of identity, class and race . . . A strong original narrative, with a central mystery and an intriguing plot.’ Sydney Morning Herald
‘By covering complex terrain, Half Moon Lake opens up an emotionally charged dialogue surrounding the choices we make and the lies we tell ourselves.’ The Age
‘This is why we read novels – to come across a story such as Kirsten Alexander’s Half Moon Lake . . . In its craft and psychological subtlety, Alexander’s story comes close to a masterpiece.’ Robert Hillman, bestselling author of The Bookshop of the Broken Hearted
‘An accomplished debut . . . The publisher’s blurb says the novel is about “the parent–child bond, identity, and what it means to be part of a family”. All true: but what the novel is really about is power.’ Australian Book Review
‘A thought-provoking tale of the lengths we go to in order to save those close to us – and ourselves. I was gripped throughout.’ Natasha Lester, bestselling author of The Paris Seamstress
‘An evocative, unputdownable story about every parent’s worst nightmare – losing a child . . . I highly recommend this novel.’ Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Mother-in-Law
‘Alexander’s thoughtful novel kept me engrossed and raised plenty of questions that had me thinking about the book long after I finished.’ Good Reading
‘This isn’t simply the story of a missing boy . . . it’s also a skilful exploration of multi-generational trauma, wrapped up in an engrossing mystery.’ Books+Publishing
‘A captivating novel . . . Transporting us to another time, [Alexander] takes readers to a world rife with injustice and prejudice, where the truth can be bought with gold and social appearances mean everything. For readers who enjoy both historical and thriller fiction, Half Moon Lake should be on your reading list.’ Better Reading
‘An incredibly strong debut that left me thinking about this book for weeks.’ Sam Still Reading
�
��This book defies categorisation. Elements of mystery, true crime, family drama and social commentary are woven together seamlessly. Half Moon Lake should be read and re-read – devour it for the engrossing story, and return to it for the lyrical language.’ Meg Keneally, bestselling author of Fled
‘A truly mesmerising novel, beautifully written with such a strong sense of time and place.’ Theresa Smith Writes
‘On first appearance it can seem like Half Moon Lake is a cut-and-dry historical-based kidnapping story. I need to make it clear that Half Moon Lake is so much more than this.’ Mrs B’s Book Reviews
BANTAM
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa | China
Bantam is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Bantam in 2020
Copyright © Kirsten Alexander 2020
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, published, performed in public or communicated to the public in any form or by any means without prior written permission from Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd or its authorised licensees.
Epigraph from a speech republished in Life and Death: Unapologetic Writings on the Continuing War Against Women, published by the Free Press, a division of Simon & Schuster, copyright © Andrea Dworkin 1997.
Reprinted with permission of Elaine Markson Literary Agency.
Cover photography by Bo Le, SA from Above
Cover design by Christa Moffitt, Christabella Designs
ISBN 9780143792093
penguin.com.au
Sign up to Read More and discover new favourites
Visit penguin.com.au/readmore
Riptides Page 27
