Changeling's Island - eARC (23 page)

Jon came jogging up. “I said he’d be all right, Mrs. Ryan.”

“Sorry about taking the boat, Jon,” said Tim.

“It was the right thing to do, Tim. If you’d waited, well, she’d have drowned. And you did a good job in that sea.”

“I thought it was getting worse, so I had to,” he said, simply enormously grateful for the understanding and the trust. “But I want to get my nan home. She’s wet.”

“And he’s a wet hen,” said his nan acerbically, far more like her old self, but not letting go of him. “Now, why don’t you tell all these people to come an’ get dry and warm and have tea? That was you they was cheering for, Tim, and I want to hear why. All of it.”

“He saved the little girl’s life,” said Jon McKay.

“That was Molly. She swam across to get her. Bravest thing I ever saw in my life, her jumping in there. Hey, Bunce!” The wolfhound danced and licked, and nearly knocked his teeth out.

“I guess, by the Huntaway, that she’s here an’ all right too?” asked his grandmother.

“She’s here,” said Tim, looking around. “I hope all right. I’d better check.”

“You’ll get your grandmother home,” said Jon McKay, firmly. “She’s with her folks and is fine. I’ll check. Could you use someone to drive you?”

“No…I should be okay,” said Tim, suddenly realizing how tired he actually was.

“Yes, we could,” said his nan. “My boy needs to get warm and dry an’ his tea in him. I don’t never ask for help, but the old ute…well, I think she may have done her last drive. I pushed her a bit hard. Anyway…I have a grandson and we’ll be all right, even if we have to walk.”

“You can bet on it being sorted for you,” said Jon. “Don’t you worry about it. Come on, I’ll get Brian to drive you. I’ll come back for the boat in the morning.”

“Um. There’s your ute too. It’s at West End,” said Tim warily.

Jon laughed. “I didn’t think you pulled the RIB there with your teeth, Tim. Stop worrying. Come with me.”

So they did.

Tim didn’t remember the evening too well. He was asked a lot of questions, which he couldn’t answer too well, but it didn’t seem to matter. There were a lot of people in a house that had always seemed so empty, and now it was noisy and cheerful, and then even more people came, bringing them tea, casseroles, an apple pie and even cake. It wasn’t as good as his nan’s, and he was tired enough to say so. That actually made people cheer, even if he was embarrassed by having said it aloud.

He was not too tired to put down a saucer of beer in the corner of the kitchen as soon as he got home, even before he went to get dry clothes and hang up his red life jacket. His grandmother touched the jacket as he hung it up. “Yer was wearing that, and off Roydon Island,” she said, with quiet satisfaction. “Yer wouldn’t believe, but I saw yer. I saw yer out there, the day yer came home from the city. I wasn’t there, but I still saw it.”

He hesitated a moment and saw the tiny ripples in the bowl in the corner. “I believe you, Nan…because I saw something like it when we were trying to come in. Like a big rowing boat with a bow at each end, with men in old-fashioned clothes, waiting for the double wave. That’s how I knew what to do.”

His grandmother took him by the arm and walked him into the main room of the house, the one with the slightly crooked wall. “See that mantelpiece over the fireplace. Yer grandfather said it came from the keel of the wreck of a whaleboat his ancestor first landed on the island in. During a storm. They didn’t quite get to the shore and three men drowned.”

Somehow Tim knew they’d all have made it, if, at the first grate of the keel and sideways judder, some of the men hadn’t leapt from the boat to reach the shore. She’d rolled then, at the last, and trapped two, and an oar had struck one. But you couldn’t explain that sort of thing. Besides, he had enough to explain to Molly’s parents, who were just coming in with her.

Only it seemed he didn’t have to explain much there, either. Molly rushed into talking first, grabbed his arm. “I had a bit of a talk with my dad on the way up. About you being scared of being sent away, or, you know…”

He was glad Nan was heading for the kitchen. He hoped no one else was listening. “I’ll have to deal with it if it happens.”

“Well, it’s not going to. Over my dead body! But he said it was sometimes better to go and face your fears than to run. And he can be right sometimes. He said he is ready to help, if you want to talk to him. And he won’t tell anyone. You can trust him, really.”

Tim cast a nervous look at Molly’s dad. “Uh, okay.”

“But tomorrow, not tonight. No one is going to bug you tonight.”

She was wrong about that, though, in an odd way. After they’d eaten, and people were talking, Tim got up and went through to the kitchen, taking the excuse of looking at the stove. But actually, he quietly opened the door and walked outside. The ground was wet, but the wind had died down, and the moon peered through the tattered cloud. It was dark out. Dark the way Melbourne never was. And there were more stars up there than he’d ever seen in Melbourne. The distant sound of the surf-roar on the beach drowned out the talking people inside. It was nice having them here. Good to feel that that they’d done the right thing. But…

“Too many people,” said his grandmother from the doorway.

“Yeah.” He’d never thought he’d say that. “I always thought Flinders Island small and Melbourne big. But that was the wrong way around, Nan. Over there you only have a tiny bit of it to yourself, and now that I am used to having something big to myself, I need a lot of space.”

She nodded. “Come in, Tim, and I’ll send ’em all home. The Symonses are wanting to go anyway.”

So he did. He was already home. And he got a hug and kiss from Molly before she left. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t noticed that the braces were gone from her teeth. He didn’t care anyway. She was Molly, with them or without.

EPILOGUE

Of course life didn’t just go back to normal—except where it did. The cow still needed milking early the next morning. Nan was still up before the sun, baking, by the smell of it. But his day of working on Jon’s boat didn’t happen. Instead Jon arrived with his ute, empty trailer, and two other four-by-fours. “We’ve come to fetch my boat, the other boat and Mrs. Ryan’s ute. I need my boatman,” he informed Nan. It felt pretty good, being called that.

So when the ABC reporter showed up, he was down on the beach, cranking a winch, sweating and laughing. He was never going to be much good at being interviewed, but it seemed everyone else said it for him. They’d been to Molly first, and she was better at talking on camera than he was. That was fine. She always had more to say than he did, anyway. “I was just doing what had to be done” seemed a good answer to him, so long as they didn’t ask
how
he knew it had to be done. He told them about her swimming to reach Sammy, though. He had fun doing that. But then that reminded him of Troy, and he was silent again.

* * *

Mary Ryan was sitting on her bed, her box open, and the letters out…she couldn’t see more than the shape of the paper, and certainly not the words anymore. But she knew the letter by heart anyway. And now at last she could smile about it. “Eh, John, dearest,” she said, “yer heart would burst with pride at our grandson. He’s done you proud, my man.”

Someone knocked at the door. She gathered the letters and said, “Comin’.” They were old and needed to be put away carefully…she’d cracked a couple before she’d realized paper got old. And when you couldn’t see well, it took time and care.

“Oh. I thought you said come in, Mrs. Ryan. Pardon me,” said someone from the doorway.

It sounded like that damned copper! She stood up in a hurry, scattering the precious letters. “What do you want?” she snapped, defensively, ready to fight.

“I’m putting your grandson up for an award for his courage,” said the copper. “I just needed his full name and date of birth. I tried to call, but the line must be down. So I came around to ask. He deserves recognition for what he did.” He’d knelt down and was carefully picking up the scattered letters. That much she could see in the blurred outline. “He’s a fine boy.”

It was hard not to agree, or even to be angry with him. “Yes. My man would have been right proud of him.”

“He’d have had every reason to be. I’ve never seen as good a piece of seamanship as him coming in yesterday. Where should I put these letters, Mrs. Ryan?” he asked. “Back in the box?”

She nodded. What else could she do? “You’ll have a cup of tea, mister.”

“I’d better report the phone for you,” he said.

“I took it off the hook. People from them newspapers kept callin’ to talk to him. He’s out working. I should be too,” she said, still a little tense.

“Well, if you can spare the time for a cup of tea, I’d be grateful. It’s been a hard morning. Grim. I had to talk with Burke’s wife. It’s the worst part of the job. I hate it, but it has to be done. And thanks to your grandson, she has one child alive. A little longer and she wouldn’t have either. The girl is still in the hospital. She got very cold, poor mite. Another half hour and the child would have been dead, the doctor reckons. Anyway, so, it’s a relief to come here.”

It had never occurred to her that it might be difficult to have delivered that sort of news. She’d only been on the other side of it. She nodded. “Cold’ll kill yer, especially little folk or critters. I used to warm the orphan lambs up in me oven in the morning with the door open. Nearly forgot and put more wood in and closed the door and cooked one, one day. Only his yammerin’ saved him.”

They talked farming, and sheep, and about the sea. He’d also grown up on a farm, close to the coast, in Tassie. Talking like this, you’d have almost thought he wasn’t a copper, and there wasn’t an old .22 in her cupboard that shouldn’t be there. It’d been her father’s gun, and he’d never registered it, she was sure. Times had changed. A copper sitting having tea with a black woman…Then he went off to give the blokes a hand with the boat.

* * *

Mike Symons had gotten Tim to walk off a little way and chat while several of the men were fiddling with the old Ford. He’d been braced for some fairly serious wrongdoing in Tim’s past. Drugs. Car theft…that sort of thing. It had been all he could do not to burst out laughing when Tim told him about it, partly with relief, because unless he read it completely wrong, his daughter was very much in love with the boy. “Look. Honestly, forget about it. For them to charge you…well, you’d have had to take the DVD out of the shop and be caught. And as for that insurance scumbag—if he calls you again, you call me, and we’ll talk to the sergeant or the ombudsman. He’s overstepping the law. I’m amazed the school reacted like that.”

“Well, there were a few other things. See, um, I tried some cannabis once, and got sick. And…and they told someone. But I swear I only did it that once, and after that I’ll never go near it again! I ended up in the hospital. But my mum thinks I smoke it by the bucket. She’s crazy. Even ordinary cigarette smoke makes me cough my lungs out.”

Mike drew the boy out more, so he heard about Hailey. Heard and understood all too well how Tim…wanted to be accepted. Understood also how he wanted to leave it behind, and didn’t want everyone to know what he’d done. “I’m not telling anyone, Tim. But seriously, after yesterday, I don’t think you need to care. I hope it doesn’t go to your head.”

Tim Ryan looked up at Mike, and shook his head. “I didn’t do it to be a hero. They’re all wrong about that. I don’t think I was, and I really didn’t want to be heroic, just, there was no one else. I was really scared, to tell the truth. I wouldn’t have done it if the cop had listened…Actually, I was really petrified I’d be in more trouble, too. I’d rather deal with the sea than that. I thought I would have to leave the island, or be sent away. I hated this place at first, but I’ve…I’ve kind of got used to being here now. The one who was heroic was your daughter. I just did what had to be done, stuff I could do.”

Mike patted him on the shoulder. “You have no idea how worrying a heroine daughter is to a dad. I’m as proud as can be, of course, but…anyway. I think this island suits you, the way city life didn’t, Tim. Everyone has the right place to be. You’re lucky. It took me until I was forty to figure it out, that I wasn’t happy where everyone said I should be, and I am happy here. And Tim…after the way you coped with that sea yesterday, I don’t think you ever need to be afraid of what people think of you. Except maybe my daughter.”

Tim blushed, and nodded, which Mike Symons, all things considered, decided was a good thing. “The sea’s easy compared to women!” Then the boy looked toward the sea and said: “Excuse me…I’ve got to go and speak to someone.”

There wasn’t anyone there, but Mike did see a seal out in the surf.

* * *

“This thing ought not to be on the road,” said the sergeant. “And she shouldn’t be driving.”

“I don’t think it ever goes on the road. I doubt if it has been out of second gear in ten years. And it’s proof of the curative properties of old fencing wire,” said one of the volunteer mechanics. “And baling string. I’ve never seen a baling-string fan belt before.”

“I don’t think she drives it anyway. That’s Tim, and it’s all on the farm,” said Jon McKay. “What’s eating you, Sergeant?”

The man sighed. “I was looking for a reason to not be disgusted with myself. That old lady…I surprised her, startled her. She was sitting with her husband’s letters on the bed. Scattered them all over the place when I got there. I picked them up for her…I’m a copper, and of course I was reading bits as I picked them up. And they’ve been read damn near to pieces. You’re right, McKay. She’s a battler and needs help. And she’s half-blind. She shouldn’t be out here struggling away like this. I don’t know how it’s been allowed to happen. We need to get something done. Social services or…”

Jon interrupted, explaining the pieces he’d put together himself. “Aboriginal girl, marrying into an old island family. Managed to make her family and theirs mad in the process, and then lost him in Vietnam. And didn’t have any help, and wouldn’t ask for it. All she had was her pride and this place. Take those away from her, Sergeant, or her away from here, and you might as well kill her. And don’t try anything she sees as interfering, or charity. She won’t take either,” he said firmly. “Leave it alone, Sergeant. I’ve talked to RSL. She would have been getting help from them…if they’d known. The local crowd are as solid a crew as you’ll get anywhere. And I reckon the Flinders Island Aboriginal Association folk will be out to look after her too, because one of the guys on my boat yesterday is part of the Association. They take care of their own, too. And the rest of us, we’ll work on it. See to things quietly. Tim is her soft spot, and he’s her eyes, too. He’s a good island kid.” He looked up at Mike Symons. “And he’s got a good girlfriend. Where is he, Mike?”

“Talking to a seal. Seriously. And my girl will probably keep him on the straight and narrow, unlike that Hailey Burke he was mixed up with. What’s happening there, Sergeant? How is the little girl doing?”

“She’s due to be released from the hospital later. Nothing worse than hypothermia, and of course being terrified, and in shock about her brother. Her mother got in early this morning. Charter flight.”

“And the older girl? And Burke? You going to take action there?”

The policeman bit his lip. Looked at his audience. “Well, this being the island, you’ll all find out anyway. Burke’s wife was so mad with him, she shopped him to us. We arrested him in his packing shed this morning, where he was trying to clear away what he’d been up to yesterday instead of keeping an eye on his daughter or the kids. He was sure that we wouldn’t check on him yet, and he owes a lot of money to some nasty people in the trade on the mainland. As a result…I gather words like ‘divorce’ have been said. Apparently the wife never has liked the island, so I should think they’ll be leaving. As for the older daughter…I don’t think she’ll ever be the same again.”

* * *

It was some ten days later. Tim was glad Jon McKay could be so understanding, without asking hard questions. He’d taken them out without asking why or anything. Just taken Tim’s “please can you give us a ride out there sometime soon, I’ve something I have to deal with” as enough. Prime Seal Island was someone’s farmland, but the foreshore was crown land. And in that foreshore…

* * *

Áed led them, tossing sticks and pebbles to herd them along the trail toward the stench of the thing. Years it had been lying in the old hole, preserving the hole, as Fae lands are preserved.

Every now and again he paused to skip and dance a little in the sunlight and wind. To celebrate that he and the master would not leave here for the hollow lands.

The master stuck his hand down the hole. Hauled out an old silver teapot, a rotting leather bag, a candlestick with an engraved crest on it…and finally, a pendant. A long, silvery chain with a gem that glittered cold and bright, sharding the sunlight into fragments of rainbow.

The young master’s lady gasped. He did not. “So this is what she wants,” he said.

“It looks like it’s worth a million dollars,” said the young woman, awed by the stinking thing.

The master wasn’t as impressed, it seemed. “Yeah. Maybe. I gave my promise. The seal-woman is waiting just offshore. I saw her as we came to the beach.”

And he took it to the water and threw it…as far and as hard as he could.

Maybe the master understood, somehow, that Faerie was a kind of hell, and not heaven.

Áed didn’t know. He was just glad.

* * *

“Well, you’ve got nowhere to run away to anymore,” Molly said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, as the black seal with the glittering rainbow jewel around her neck dived into the deep blue of the ocean.

Tim shrugged, looking out at the sea and the distant mountain. “I guess so. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not running anymore anyway. This,” he pointed at the sea and the island beyond it, “is where I belong.”