The helicopter took me straight to hospital, where Mum and Dad were waiting for me. They held my hands as I was wheeled in and Mum was fighting really hard not to cry. I’d got a little of my voice back by this time, so I asked about Aiden. Mum shook her head.
‘Still searching, Ash,’ she whispered. ‘But don’t give up hope.’ She tried to smile, but it came out all wrong. ‘We mustn’t give up.’
I was given painkillers, which helped, and taken to x-ray where it was discovered I had cracked a couple of ribs but hadn’t broken anything else. The doctor said they were going to keep me in for a few days to make sure I hadn’t done any serious damage, to ‘monitor my condition’, but she told me she thought I was going to be fine. I didn’t feel fine. I felt tired and defeated. I didn’t want to sleep until I had some news about Aiden, but the drugs they’d given me took away what little energy remained. I closed my eyes. My sleep was dreamless.
When I woke, it was with a jolt that brought the pain back all new and refreshed. I groaned. Dad was at my bedside and was holding my hand. He was also smiling.
‘They found him, Ashleigh, and he’s going to be okay, they think. Battered and bruised, but alive.’
I cried then. I sobbed and sobbed and didn’t care that each time I did, the pain in my ribs twisted like a knife. Dad just held my hand and let me get it all out.
The next thing I remember is waking up, the sun streaming through the windows and Mum and Dad slumped in a couple of chairs at my bedside. I tried not to wake them – they must have been up all night and completely exhausted – but almost as soon as I opened my eyes, Mum opened hers. Maybe being a parent gives you a sort of superpower in things like that. She smiled.
‘Hey, sleeping beauty.’
‘How’s Aiden?’ I said. ‘Can I see him?’
‘He’s undergoing surgery,’ Mum replied. She held up a hand, apparently in reaction to my expression. ‘It’s routine, Ash. He had a bit of a nasty head injury, but it’s all going to be fine.’
Dad stretched and grimaced at some pain in his back.
‘Morning, kiddlypunk,’ he said.
‘Don’t you start,’ I replied. ‘Will I be able to see him when he’s out of theatre?’
‘He’s not in this hospital, Ash,’ said Dad. ‘They took him to his normal clinic. They know his medical history there and he knows all the staff. It’s for the best.’
‘Why isn’t anyone with him?’
‘I’m going now,’ said Mum. ‘I just needed to make sure you were okay before I went. Don’t worry, Ash, I’ll be right there for him when he comes round.’
When Mum left, giving me a cautious hug that brought more tears to my eyes, Dad gave an update on all that had happened at the camp. What had hit me in the river was a mini tornado, a dust devil that had formed in a clearing in the bush close to the bank. He explained how it developed, something to do with hot air hitting a patch of cooler air forming a violent updraft. Once it crossed water it quickly lost power, but not before it had put me through a kind of watery tumble dryer.
‘Mr Meredith said he’d never seen anything like it,’ Dad said. ‘And although your mum and I were thinking initially that the school must be at fault, I think now it was just a freak event. Like so many other freak weather events that have hit Australia for many years now. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
Charlotte and Aiden were ahead of me when the mini tornado struck and it didn’t affect them. But as soon as he saw I was in danger, Aiden dived into the water and followed me until we both slammed into the rocks that formed the rapids. When he was ripped from my grip he was bundled downstream, hitting his head a couple of times on the way. At some point, badly injured and probably barely conscious, he must have dragged himself to the river’s edge and collapsed. The search party found him three kilometres downriver.
‘He saved my life, Dad.’ I could feel the tears starting to form again. ‘He caught me.’
‘Yes,’ said Dad. He didn’t say anything else and I was glad. There wasn’t anything else to say. Dad poured me a glass of water and held it up as I sipped it through a straw.
‘Dad,’ I said.
‘I’m here.’
‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Just before I was put on the helicopter, Mr Meredith told me about the man who got me off the rock and brought me to safety. His name is Mr Dyson and he has a son. Would you be able to find out where he lives?’
Dad frowned. ‘I could ask the school, but they probably wouldn’t tell me. Privacy concerns. But it shouldn’t be too difficult. Why do you want to know?’
‘I want you to send his son a present. A good present. Something he’d never be able to afford. Something like an expensive bike.’
Dad took my hand.
‘A thankyou gift for what his father did for you.’ It was a statement.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘An apology. When you have it delivered, please put a card with it. “From two spoiled brats.”’
Dad cocked his head to one side.
‘Sounds like there’s a story behind this.’
‘There is,’ I said. ‘But it’s not a story I want to tell right now.’
7
I was allowed to leave hospital two days later, with strict instructions to rest and allow my battered ribs to heal properly. As a result, Mum wouldn’t let me visit Aiden, who was still recovering at his clinic. Even if I’d been in perfect physical shape, she probably wouldn’t have allowed it. I’d been told that when he’s getting his routine operations for Klinsmann’s disease no one’s allowed to visit because he’s kept in isolation to minimise chances of infection. Not that I’d ever wanted to visit him then. Now I wasn’t even allowed to call him. But Mum told me he was doing fine and would be home within the week, just in time for our birthday.
Mr Meredith and the class sent me a lovely big get-well card. All the school staff and my fellow students had signed it with personal messages. There was another card waiting for Aiden as well. The camp, it seemed, had been abandoned after the dust devil incident because too many students were worried about further accidents and no amount of reassurance that what had happened to me was freakishly improbable made those worries go away. So they’d all packed up the next day and come home. Apparently the school was arranging partial refunds to the parents.
I was going to be off school for a couple of weeks, but Mum said Charlotte could come to stay over around the time of our birthday, which was brilliant.
Resting is boring. I wasn’t allowed to swim or even do much walking in the garden, so I spent a lot of time in the library. But even that paled after a while. And it’s a funny thing. When I went to bed I’d find myself reaching across to take Aiden’s hand. And when I found emptiness, I felt loneliness like a pain. Most nights I didn’t sleep well at all.
I wasn’t prepared for how Aiden would look when he finally came home. Dad brought him through the front door in a wheelchair and for the longest time, all I could do was stare. I’m not sure what I was expecting – the same old Aiden, I guess – but he was pale and obviously tired. The most dramatic thing was a contraption around his head that had metal spokes that seemed to dig straight into his skull; not that you could see much of his head, since it was wrapped in a bandage from just above his eyebrows. It was pretty obvious that Mum and Dad hadn’t told me the whole story about just how ill Aiden had been. And perhaps still was. I forced myself to smile, though I felt more like crying.
‘Hey, Aiden,’ I said. ‘Welcome home, bro.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. But he didn’t smile and his voice seemed different somehow, as if that had been damaged as well.
I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to say thanks for saving my life, but that seemed weird somehow, there in our front room with Mum and Dad looking on. Artificial. So I just smiled. We’d talk later, probably in bed. I’d hold his hand and tell him how brave and wonderful he was. We had time.
&nbs
p; ‘I’ll take you to your room if you like, Aiden,’ said Dad. ‘You’re probably a bit tired after the journey home, huh?’
‘I’ll take him, Dad,’ I said.
‘He’s going to be in his own bedroom for a while, Ash,’ said Mum. ‘We’ve made up one of the spare rooms. It’ll be better all round. Aiden will be sleeping upright for a while until the head brace comes off, and he gets restless at night. This way, you’ll get a decent night’s sleep and he won’t be worried about disturbing you.’
‘But I don’t mind being disturbed,’ I said. ‘That’s fine. We’ll keep sharing a room, won’t we, Aiden?’
He licked his lips, but even that simple act seemed to take a huge effort.
‘I think I’d rather have my own space for a bit, Ashleigh,’ he said. ‘Just until I’m feeling a bit better.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Whatever you want.’ But I have to admit, I felt a little hurt.
When Dad had wheeled him out of the room, Mum came over and put an arm around my shoulders.
‘Just for a while, Ashleigh,’ she said. ‘He’s been through a lot, you know. You both have. It’s going to take a little time to get over this.’
I nodded.
‘And I’ll bring your birthday present home tomorrow,’ she added. ‘You’re going to love it. Both of you.’
Our birthday was still two days away. She probably thought we needed a gift sooner rather than later, after all we’d been through.
‘What is it?’
Mum ruffled my hair. ‘Nice try, kiddlypunk,’ she said. ‘But I’ll tell you this much. You are going to be surprised. Very surprised.’
I love surprises and most times, coming up to my birthday, I’d be so excited that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Lying in bed that night, though, I could only think about Aiden and what he was thinking and feeling a few doors down the corridor. He hadn’t come out of the guest bedroom since Dad wheeled him in and Mum said I couldn’t even go in to say goodnight. I tried some reading, but the words just floated off the page and didn’t touch me. When I finally fell asleep, a thunderstorm rumbling, I had muddied dreams that gave me no rest whatsoever.
When I got down for breakfast Mum had already left for work. She often has the car pick her up at five-thirty in the morning so she’s in the lab by six o’clock. She says she likes the quiet at that time of the morning and it gives her space to think without the distraction of colleagues, questions and meetings. She gets her best ideas then, she says. I wasn’t too bothered by that. I just wanted her to remember to bring our birthday present home, like she’d promised.
The weather had threatened a storm in the night, but it never arrived, just grumbled quietly way off in the distance. Now the sky was cloudless and even from inside the house I could tell it was going to be very hot. The kids at school wouldn’t be getting out into the playground today, sunblock and hats regardless.
I made myself two rounds of toast and watched Dad clean the solar sail through the dining room window. It’s meant to be self-cleaning, but Dad doesn’t trust it. I would’ve knocked on the window to say good morning, but he was operating the pressure cleaner drone so there was no point. I took my breakfast into the library.
Aiden was already in there, which was a surprise. He was sitting in his wheelchair, staring at the shelves. Not reading, just staring. It’s not often he seeks out time by himself. Normally he hangs around me whenever possible, only backing off when I tell him to give me some space. He didn’t even turn around when I said good morning.
‘How’re you feeling, Aiden?’ I asked.
He gripped the wheels of his chair and spun to face me. It was as if I’d surprised him, brought him back from somewhere far away in his head. He smiled.
‘Oh, you know, Ash. Like my skull’s on fire and someone’s constantly stabbing me in the neck with a red-hot knife.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘I feel loads better than yesterday.’
I sat in one of the library reading chairs in front of him, put one hand on his knee. He glanced down as if surprised to see it there.
‘Did they tell you what’s wrong with you?’ I asked. ‘Why do you have to wear that cage thing and when’s it coming off?’
‘You know doctors, Ash,’ he replied. Actually, I didn’t. Until recently I hadn’t needed any medical treatment, unlike Aiden who needed it constantly. ‘They think you’re an idiot who can’t understand or handle the truth. So they just went on about head trauma, which means nothing at all really. Just that your head’s been damaged and I could have told them that.’ Aiden rarely talked about his medical experiences and he never made judgements about the doctors treating him. I felt a little uneasy. I mean, I know he was entitled to feel grumpy and maybe even angry at the injuries he’d got, but it’s just that Aiden always … accepted what happened to him, rather than complaining about it. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried that he was showing another side to his personality. ‘The cage is to keep my head steady while it heals,’ he continued. ‘Stop my brain rattling around in there, or something. Mum says it’s coming off in a few days and I’ll also be able to get out of this chair. I hate being stuck in here, so that’s good news for once.’
‘I’m so sorry you’ve gone through all this, Aiden,’ I said. ‘And I want you to know how grateful I am that you risked your life to save mine. You’ve been amazingly brave.’
‘Or amazingly dumb,’ said Aiden. ‘Depends on how you look at it.’
I put my head to one side. Another remark I never would have thought he’d make. But if anyone needed to have some slack cut for him, it was Aiden.
‘What were you thinking about?’ I said.
‘When?’
‘When I came in you were staring at the bookshelves and not like you were trying to decide what to read next. It seemed like you were thinking about something important.’
Aiden swung his wheelchair around and headed out the door towards the kitchen. I followed. I was going to offer to push him but almost instinctively knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. Aiden was in a strange mood and I didn’t think he’d like me interfering.
‘The spider,’ he said over his shoulder.
He wheeled himself to the fridge door, opened it and took out a flask of his green goo. Breakfast.
‘What?’
He moved over to the kitchen table, unscrewed the flask and took a swig. I wanted to turn my eyes away, but forced myself to watch. He deserved that much respect.
‘That golden orb-weaving spider we saw on camp,’ he said.
‘It was amazing. Mr Meredith told me not to let anyone else, other than you, know it was there. He said some of the other kids would destroy it, just because they could.’
‘Probably right about that, our amazing, talented and empathetic teacher. But I was thinking it was symbolic of our family, Ash.’
‘What?’ This was getting weird.
‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘The home the spider built was beautiful. She must have spent an enormous amount of time constructing it. An engineering marvel. Like this place.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘And there it is, in its environment, but if you didn’t catch it at just the right angle, you’d never know it was there. Just like this place.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, come on. All the security devices Mum must’ve installed. If someone was to come within half a kay of this beautiful mansion, alarms would go off. Not out there. In here. And before they knew it, someone trying to take anything from us – hell, even if they weren’t thinking about it, but just stumbled across us accidentally – would be arrested or at least taken in by the security company Mum pays. It’s like a web. Get too close and you’re going to get stuck.’
‘Aiden,’ I said. ‘That’s just wrong. This house is not like that spider’s web. It’s beautiful, yeah, but it’s not designed to trap anyone.’
‘And then there’s the female spider, right there in the cent
re of the web, controlling everything.’ Aiden carried on as if I hadn’t said anything. ‘That’s Mum right there. Huge, controlling, at the centre.’ He laughed. ‘And tiny, ineffectual Dad stuck at the edges, too scared to come close, never mind do anything.’
‘I don’t think you should talk about Mum and Dad like that, Aiden.’ I was prepared to forgive him plenty of things after all he had done for me, but this was getting horrible. I wondered whether that head injury was much more severe than anyone had let on. But if that was the case, surely they wouldn’t have allowed him to come home? I closed my eyes, forced myself to stay calm, reasonable and understanding.
Aiden didn’t reply. He just sat there at the kitchen table, staring off into the distance. I’m not even sure he’d heard a word I’d said.
‘And another thing,’ he continued. ‘We exist with no connection to the outside world. Not really. That spider’s web was there, wonderful, rich and beautiful, but it was surrounded by the ugly. Battered, nasty nature, smashed to bits because of what we’ve done in the name of humanity, but if you look hard enough you’ll find a gem in there, hiding away, pretending the ugliness doesn’t exist.’
‘Aiden …’
‘People are suffering out there, Ashleigh, but we never see it. We stay in our beautiful web and that’s our whole world. We’re rich enough to make sure the real, ugly world is kept at a distance. So we can’t be offended by it.’
I could feel tears coming to my eyes and I knew that if I didn’t leave, then things would just become nastier. There was no talking to him and really I didn’t want to listen to the nonsense he was coming out with. He needed rest, I told myself. In a few days he’d be back to normal.
But I didn’t leave, because Dad opened the door from the outside and came in. He washed his hands at the sink.
Catch Me If I Fall Page 7
