The Long Way Home

by Phillip Overton

  ****

  Simon reached the gate at the far end of the garden and flung it open. He raced down the concrete steps two at a time until he reached the small wharf at the edge of the water. The rusty lamp post at the bottom of the stairs cast his shadow in front of him as his feet clumped along the heavy timber boards. Across the water, the Manly ferry had slowed as it approached the pier. Funnily enough it didn’t look as big from the end of Uncle Tim’s wharf as it had moments earlier from the upstairs bedroom window. The light from the windows still glittered brightly on the surface of the harbour as the ferry finally came to a stop with a soft bump against the timber pylons and the following distant crash of the gangways being shoved into place.

  Simon stood watching from across the harbour, the air smelt fresh and salty. All around he could see the lights of houses shining through the trees. People were quietly tucked away inside their homes, leaving Simon alone to enjoy the cool night breeze. Beside him, his Uncle Tim’s small plywood boat bobbed up and down in the black water. No one was around to be annoyed by the sound it made like a hollow drum when it bumped softly against the wharf. The water beneath him sounded like a cat drinking noisily as it lapped against the side of the little boat. Simon walked a little closer to the edge of the wharf to get a better look, the boat continued to sway back and forth as it rocked gently in the inky black water.

  Thinking of how much fun it would be on a night like this to be sailing on Sydney Harbour, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by thousands of house lights glimmering over the water, Simon lowered his legs over the edge of the wharf. One foot found the edge of the boat while his mind raced ahead thinking only of sitting in the little boat while it bobbed up and down, still tied to the wharf. He swung his other leg over the side and felt his foot slip out from underneath him, sending him flailing backwards, clutching at nothing. His head hit hard against the wood half cabin of the small boat and he felt his knees buckle beneath him. Simon’s world went black as he fell forward, head first into the dark, inky water between the wharf and the plywood boat.