Night Beach (40 page)

happen?
Or
was
I
guided?

Obediently
spitting
things
out
onto
the
canvas?

I
don’t
know.
De
Chirico
might
say
it’s
an
enigma,
and
my
instinct
is
to
go
with
that.

Whether
the
painting
foretells
or
causes
things
isn’t
really
the
point.
The
work
isn’t

separate,
it’s
part
of
it.
It’s
part
of
the
process.

But
looking
at
the
painting
now,
I
see
things
I
still
can’t
account
for.
And
I’m
worried

that
means
they’re
yet
to
happen.
That
it’s
not
over.

The
girl
is
carrying
the
doorknob
and
the
candle
holder.

I
thought
I
understood
the
significance
of
the
doorknob.
But
it’s
still
here,
it
hasn’t
been

taken
away
like
the
other
relics.
So
maybe
not.
And
nothing’s
happened
to
the
candle

holder
yet.

It’s
in
my
car
where
I
left
it.

What
disturbs
me
the
most
is
the
warm,
golden
light
shining
through
the
skin
of
the

girl’s
back
and
chest.
It’s
as
though
there’s
a
fire
burning
inside
her.
When
I
look
at
that,

I
get
the
strongest
sense
of
déjà
vu.

It’s
at
that
point
I
realise
I
can
hear
the
distant
noise
of
someone
knocking.

31

The
visitor

‘Oi,
Kaney!
Are
you
in
there
or
what?’
the
voice
is
male.

Another
round
of
knocking
follows,
vibrating
the
glass
pane
in
the
window
near
me.
I

shift
a
blind
to
see
who’s
arrived.

The
guy
on
the
top
step
isn’t
someone
I
recognise.
He’s
heavy-‐set
and
looks
squat
in
his

snowboarding
jacket
and
beanie.
I
get
an
impression
of
stubble,
definite
dark
eyes
and

straight
black
eyebrows.
He’s
older
than
Kane
–
in
his
late
twenties.

‘I
know
you’re
in
there,
Kane.
Your
ute’s
out
front.
So
open
up.
It’s
Marco!’
He
presses

his
forehead
to
the
glass,
trying
to
peer
inside.
And
I
duck
down,
because
the
next
logical

thing
for
him
to
do
is
look
across
at
the
window.

Marco,
the
photographer.
The
one
who
went
on
the
trip.

Marco,
who
doesn’t
know
when
to
quit
–
he’s
banging
on
the
sliding
door
again.

And
then
the
real
shock
happens.
I
hear
a
thump
from
the
room
next
door.

‘Yeah,
all
right.
All
right!’
Kane
shouts
hoarsely.
‘I’m
coming.’

There’s
the
thud
of
his
footsteps,
and
a
moment
later
the
sound
of
the
glass
door
sliding

open.
Their
voices
vibrate,
but
the
words
are
indistinct.
To
hear
what
they’re
saying,
I

have
to
move
now
while
they’re
still
focused
on
each
other.
I
tiptoe
to
the
door
and
open

it
ever
so
slightly.

‘Settle
down,
mate.’
Kane’s
voice
is
scratchy.
‘I
don’t
want
big
Brian
down
here
–
What’s

the
time
anyway?’

‘Almost
eight.’

‘He’ll
be
at
work
then.
Shut
the
door.’

‘Do
you
want
to
put
some
clothes
on?
It’s
freezing
in
here.’

‘Yeah-‐no,
I’m
right.
You
gonna
sit
down
or
what?’

A
chair
scrapes
across
the
tiles.
I
hear
the
pad
of
footsteps,
and
then
a
cupboard
opening

and
closing,
a
tap
running.
Kane
must
be
at
the
sink.

‘Where’ve
you
been
anyway?’
Marco
asks.

‘Right
here.’

‘Haven’t
seen
you
around.
You
been
sick
with
it
or
something?’

There’s
the
noise
of
a
glass
being
placed
firmly
on
the
benchtop.
‘I’m
not
talking
about

any
of
that.’

‘You’re
gonna
have
to.
That’s
why
I’m
here.
You
gotta
pull
Kenda
into
line.’

‘Matty’s
cool.
What’s
your
problem
with
Matty?’

‘My
problem?
My
problem
is
that
he
paid
me
a
visit
at
early
o’clock,
out
of
his
tree.
And

him
wandering
around
like
that
is
not
good.’

Kane’s
voice
gains
an
edge.
‘What’s
he
been
saying?’

‘I
don’t
know.
And
that
bugs
me.
Because
the
little
mouse
that
runs
the
little
wheel
that

powers
that
peanut
brain
of
his
is
starting
to
work
overtime.
And
we
don’t
want
Matty

thinking
too
hard
about
what
went
down
over
there,
’cause
he
can’t
deal
with
it.
We’ve

got
to
be
careful.
Because
we
didn’t
do
anything
wrong,
Kaney.
But
if
he
goes
to
pieces,

then
it
starts
to
look
like
something
did
happen
over
there,
like
maybe
we
did
do

something
wrong.’

There
is
a
long
silence.
I’ve
slid
down
and
I’m
sitting
with
my
back
against
the
wall,

hardly
breathing.

‘How
much
do
you
remember,
Marco?’

‘What?
You
want
me
to
give
you
the
frigging
blow-‐by-‐blow?
You
were
there.’

‘Yeah,
but
how
much?
You
tell
me.
’Cause
it’s
all
coming
back
to
me.
And
I
don’t
like
it,

hey.
I’m
starting
to
remember
what
happened
in
the
smoke
–’

‘Forget
about
it.’

‘–
and
I
reckon
what
happened
for
me
must
have
been
pretty
close
to
what
happened
to

you
guys
as
well.
I
reckon
it
asked
you
exactly
the
same
question
it
asked
me.
And
you

know
what,
Marco?
I
bet
you
answered
the
same
way.’

‘Nothing
happened,
Kane.’

‘If
nothing
happened,
then
where
the
hell
is
–’

‘
We
did
nothing
wrong!’
Marco
bellows.

‘Keep
your
voice
down,
idiot,’
Kane
snaps.
‘Abbie’s
probably
upstairs.’

In
the
silence
that
follows,
his
words
seem
to
echo
around
the
downstairs
area,
trapped

between
the
ceiling
and
the
tiles.
I
don’t
want
to
be
here.
I’m
scared
about
what
I’m

hearing
–
what
it
means
–
and
I’m
scared
that
they
are
going
to
find
me.

When
Marco
speaks
again,
his
voice
is
ragged.
‘We
did
nothing
wrong.
We’ve
got
to
stick

to
that,
Kaney.
It
wasn’t
our
fault.’

‘What
about
the
boat?’
Kane
asks.
‘What
if
they
say
something?’

‘What
about
the
boat?
We
told
them
to
go
back
the
next
day.’

‘But
we
never
did.’
There’s
a
desperation
in
Kane’s
voice
I’ve
never
heard
before.
‘We

should
have,
but
we
never
did.’

‘We
told
them
to
go
back
the
next
day.
Just
like
he
asked
us
to.
That’s
how
it
happened.’

Marco
says
this
like
he’s
teaching
a
child
lessons.
‘If
they
didn’t,
then
it
was
down
to
a

mix-‐up
in
communications.
Language
barrier.’

There’s
a
long
silence.

‘This
is
crap,’
Kane
says.
‘I
don’t
need
this
–’

‘You
think
I
do?’

‘Yeah,
it’s
all
right
for
you
though,
isn’t
it?’

‘What’s
that
supposed
to
mean?’

‘Why
aren’t
you
looking
at
my
shoulders?’

‘What
the
fuck?’

‘I’m
standing
here
with
my
shoulders
scratched
to
shit,
bleeding,
and
you’re
acting
like

you
can’t
see
it.’

‘Yeah,
I
can
see
you’ve
been
worked
over.
.
.
or
something.’

‘Show
me
your
shoulders,
Marco.’

‘What?’

‘I
want
to
know
if
they’re
like
mine.
And
you
know
what?
I
already
know
they’re
not.

You’re
just
happy
it’s
not
you.
I
bet
it
makes
you
feel
better
to
look
at
me
and
think,
“You

poor
bastard.”
’Cause
it’s
right
there
behind
me,
isn’t
it?
Even
if
we
can’t
see
it.

Breathing
down
my
neck.’

‘Wow.’
Marco
gives
a
hollow
laugh.
‘You’re
tired.
Jet-‐lagged.
Get
some
sleep,
brother.

’Cause
it’s
over.
All
that
stuff
happened
there.
We’re
here
and
we’re
safe.
And
you
know

what
else?
We
got
good
shots.
That
night
surfing
stunt
means
you
can
probably
crawl

your
way
into
a
better
contract
with
Dark.
At
the
very
least.
So
you
gotta
get
your
head

together,
champ.
Can
you
do
that
for
me?’

A
pause,
then:
‘Yeah,
all
right.
I
get
it.’
Kane
sounds
beaten
down.
I
didn’t
think
that

could
happen.

‘Good.
’Cause
I’m
gonna
put
the
shots
out
there
tomorrow.
Not
the
night
stuff
–
I’ll
give

Dark
first
offer
on
that.
But
some
of
the
other
stuff
–
you
and
Toby
–
that’s
gonna
get

good
interest
on
the
websites,
maybe
a
couple
of
the
mags
–’

‘
Are
you
fuckin’
nuts?’
Kane
shouts.

‘That’s
what
we’ve
got
to
do.
Business
as
usual.
I
put
it
out
there.
Spin
a
bit
of
a
story,

give
them
the
behind
the
scenes.
Hint
at
a
bit
of
hissy
fit.’
Marco’s
voice
rises
as
though

he’s
heading
off
another
outburst
from
Kane.
‘But
continue
like
it’s
business
as
usual.

Get
it?
Because
we
did
nothing
–’

‘Would
you
stop
saying
that?’
Kane
barks.

‘I’ll
say
something
else
then.
Pull
Kenda
into
line.’

Kane
mumbles
something.

‘You
think
smashing
Greg
Hill
is
the
way
to
keep
a
low
profile?’
Marco
snarls
suddenly.

‘Yeah,
I
heard
about
that.
Everybody’s
heard
about
that,
mate,
believe
me.
And
that’s

gonna
be
a
bigger
problem
than
Kenda.
People
know
his
brain
is
fried.
But
nobody’s

seen
you
pull
a
stunt
like
that
before.
Oh,
but
wait,
they
have.
When
people
think
of
you,

who’s
the
other
guy
they
think
of?
Yeah,
that’s
right.
So
why
didn’t
you
keep
your
big

head
down?’

Marco’s
chair
scrapes
across
the
tiles.

‘Hilly’s
not
going
to
let
it
go,
either.
So
if
I
were
you,
Kane,
and
I
was
operating
with
my

brain
in
the
driver’s
seat,
I’d
be
staying
out
of
his
way.’

There’s
the
thud
of
footsteps,
and
then
the
glass
door
slides
open.

‘Yeah,
don’t
mention
it,’
Marco
says
in
a
sarcastic
voice.
‘Just
looking
out
for
you,
bro.

See
ya
round.
Ring
me
to
thank
me
when
you’ve
got
your
head
back
together.’