Sailmaker (4 page)

7

Dev and I are taking Grandad's boat out. It's a good day to get a bite. There was a bit of a blow last night and now it's calm, so all the fish that got stirred up like leaves in Gran's teapot will be near the surface. Yep, we should land some King George whiting for tea – Gran's favourite. The jetty's fine after school for a drop-in but it's heaps cool when the weekend comes and Dev and I can do more stuff together. You'd think Dev'd hate coming after working on the trawler all week and even some weekends – Mr Pham doesn't come in if the fish are on the bite.

I open up the boatshed – got a key of my own now – and Dev drives the tractor out and I hitch up the trailer. The
Sea Wolf
is gleaming, itching to get wet, I'm sure of it. I would be if I was a boat. We check everything: life jackets, Gran's packed tucker and her special homemade lemonade. It's almost as good as Coke. The white plastic buckets we always use, rigs, cooler for the fish. Ice. Dev starts her up.

‘Ready, mate?' I like the way he does that – always checks with me like it matters. It's my boat; I'm just not old enough to drive it by myself. In the summer holidays I got my boat licence – amazing how I ticked those questions right. Because it was about something I knew, I guess. Dev even took me to Port Adelaide for the practical test, but I can still only go ten knots by myself or sail a ten-footer. At least I can take the tinnie out.

Dev pushes the throttle forward; the first exhilarating whoosh pushes me back on the seat, and the wind in my face makes me laugh. I glance behind at the froth we've left. It'd be great riding a bucking board in that wash. Dev always gives me a turn at driving the
Sea Wolf
. He does it now. And while I take the wheel (for practice, he says) he starts to bait his hooks with cockles. I rev her up and a sudden wave sends us off like a supersonic jet. We'd never go this fast if Gran were here, but Dev's used to speed and he grins. When I'm behind the wheel, I'm totally focused – another surprise, Gran says. Driving the boat is sometimes like walking on a plank over a waterfall – keeping that balance between the speed and staying afloat. I slow down when we're past the island, pull the throttle back into neutral and ease her into reverse.

‘This might be a good spot,' I call back. I'm using the echo sounder I won in the October fishing competition. I caught that winning snapper with a berley trail. But this sounder is a cool way to fish too – a kind of picture of the seabed comes onto the screen and it's easier to find the best places to fish – like the rocky ledges where the fish hide. I throw the pick over.

‘Sure thing, mate,' is all Dev says. It's like it's my fishing trip and Dev's come along for the ride. I start baiting my hooks. They've been sharpened especially for today. I've got worms as well as cockles and a heavier sinker than usual to pull the line down. I want a King George whiting for Gran. Soon I've dropped the lines over the side; I wait till they've run out and the sinkers hit the sand. I lean back, just sitting in the stillness, tasting the air. I like the way the
Sea Wolf
rises and falls; it's gentle on days like today. Gran still says she can't work out how someone with my energy can fish, but she's glad about it all the same. I'm usually in a good mood if I've been out – it works better than a long sleep after a hard day every time.

It's times like these I tell Dev stuff. He's told me a few things too. Stuff about himself; a few jokes. He told me about this kid who went fishing with a mouse baited to his hook. ‘Why did he do that?' I asked. Sucked in, eh? ‘Wanted to catch a catfish, mate,' says Dev. It was kind of funny at the time, especially since Dev told it without even smiling. Prescott liked it. So did Mei, or she smiled at least. Shawn didn't, though – he's got no sense of humour. Mei reckons it's because of his dad. Mr Houser doesn't like jokes much either. When I went in their shop to get the cockles yesterday, Shawn was stacking shelves, and he got something in the wrong place. Mr Houser tore strips off him, even while I was there. Dev's not all over me like prickly heat but he'd never pick on me in front of other people.

‘Do you know Vern Solomon from the island, Dev?'

‘Met him once or twice.'

‘He talks to his dog.' Don't know why I said that; must be plenty of things I could have said about Vern instead of that. Dev doesn't take it up. ‘He mends sails. Mei and I went over yesterday. Reckons there's a ghost.' I'm not sure I'm giving a good view of the old sailmaker here. Suddenly I remember the twinkle in his eye, the way he sort of grins through his beard. He looks as shaggy as his dog but surely he can't be off with the fairies. This time Dev turns to face me. ‘So he seems okay?'

‘Yeah, I guess.' I wonder what Dev is thinking. ‘You reckon he might be losing it? Out there by himself?' But that twinkle in his eye looked like he knew things, things he wasn't telling yet.

‘Not necessarily – some people just have different habits. Doesn't mean they're off their rocker.'

‘He reckons the island's made of chocolate too. Melting away.'

Dev grins out to sea, gives a chuckle. ‘Does he now? Never heard it put like that before.'

‘We got told about it at school too. It's the only sand island in South Australia.'

Dev glances at me. I'm getting to know things he's thinking. Right now he's thinking,
Is that so?

It feels good telling Dev something new. Then he tells me something.

‘There's a working bee next Saturday on the island. Everyone who can is going to help.'

‘Sandbagging? Hasn't that been tried before? One bad storm and it all disappears again.'

‘Better than that – a groyne wall.'

I've never heard of that and I let my face show him.

‘Like mattresses, mate – two-tonne bags filled with sand. They'll support that wall they tried to make there last year. The detention gang already started some of it.'

And I'm thinking maybe we can all go, Mei and me, and keep an eye out for the sailmaker's ghost.

Just then I feel a nudge on my line, then the tug. I pull the rod up hard to set the hook, then I start winding it in as fast as I can so I don't lose the fish under some ledge down there. Careful, I pump and wind and soon I can see the glint of silver under the water.
Yes
, it's a whiting! Big enough to keep too. Dev's working his line now. We end up with a whole bagful between us.

8

During the week something else happens to disturb the peace. I've managed to patch up my sandcastle life after Nancy's visit. Built the sand up round the edges. After Dev and I went fishing on the weekend I'm keener than ever for him to stay and I put a few more shells on the side to make me feel better. Then Zoe turns up. I can see the tide coming in high and fast.

She's got a week off from uni even before our Easter holidays start. And she's got more time after. Gran always keeps a room for her, all made up in case she comes. She's done that since Zoe made contact with Gran last year. Sounds like an extraterrestrial life form. Believe me, it felt like it at the time.

Dev sleeps in the restored kitchen out the back. It's separate from the house and he likes it because he can come and go without bothering Gran. Grandad had started restoring it before he died but Dev finished it over Christmas. Painted it with heritage whitewash that Gran bought. He's done a cool job – old utensils hanging on the wall, one of those scythe things too and a picture of an ancient Harley. He even has his own fireplace, though we haven't tried that out yet. I often sit out there with him after tea and we chew the fat, as Grandad used to say.

Zoe breezes in, saying how well Gran looks. She does too, when you think about it: her hair seems darker, she wears lipstick more often, not so many shapeless tracksuits. Funny, even Shawn's noticed that. ‘See, Bilious, now Dev's come your gran hasn't got the strain of you by herself. She can have a life now.' Where does he get his crap ideas? Am I that bad to live with?

Zoe's okay, I guess, but she's unsettling. There's that word again. She's my biological mum. I always think I should feel more for her, but I don't. She's just like an aunty. Gran's my mum – legal and all. Zoe was just too young to keep me and Gran adopted me instead. I understand all that now, but it doesn't stop me feeling like I'm on the edge of a cliff looking down with a great truck bearing down on me from behind. What if Zoe wanted to take me away? She couldn't, could she? And what if the crap Shawn comes out with is true?

He starts it up again at school after he's seen Zoe in his dad's shop. ‘So your mum's back, Bilious?' Don't know what's up his nose lately. My new windsurfing outfit? Couldn't be – it's not as good as his. ‘You know what'll happen now, loser. She'll take Dev back to Adelaide with her. They won't want
you
.'

I don't even have the energy to fight him over it; it kind of knocks the floor away and I hate the look on his face when he knows he's scored. I'd never thought of that. What if Dev
has
got the hots for Zoe? I'd never leave Gran. What would I do? I want Dev as well as Gran.

‘Penny for them?' It's Zoe, trying to get chummy, sitting too close to me at the table. She's often saying stuff like that too, the sort of things Grandad used to say. He was heaps older than Gran. It's where I get a lot of my words from too. Maybe that's why Zoe went wild when she was young – didn't think Grandad understood her. She's got her drawn-on eyebrows higher than they usually are, hovering, but there's no way I'm telling her what's in my head. She'd get a microscope out and look at it in great detail. It'd feel like taking all your clothes off.

‘Just thinking about Grandad,' I say. It's sort of the truth. It's breakfast time and that little white thing is squatting by my bowl. Both Zoe and Gran watch it now, sitting forward in their chairs. They don't move back until it's gone. Wonder what they could do if I decided not to take it. Interesting thought, and I toy with it awhile.

‘You miss him still?' Zoe again. I do, but I'm not about to tell her. I just shrug and Zoe tries gybing. That's a bit like tacking except with a stronger wind behind you.

‘So you feel better now?' She sounds like she's practising her counselling for uni. What is she getting at? The pills, I bet. She's trying to be friendly but I can't afford to let her close. I'd stick up for her down the street, sure, but that's as far as it can go. She could jump on my sandcastle with both feet and I'm not about to let her. I get up suddenly, satisfied with the clatter the chair makes on the slate. I don't care how bad-mannered it is. I just walk out. But I'm glad Dev's not there to see. As I pass the window I hear their words waft out: ‘. . . don't you think?' . . . ‘Just give him time, Zoe.'

Time.
Yeah, right. Time to hypnotise me and whisk me away. Or Dev. No way, ho-zay.

9

Almost the whole town gets into this Groyne Working Bee at the island, as Mr Pengelly calls it. He's the president of the Friends of the Island and he calls the island an Important Conservation Park. Everyone with boats takes them. The excavator comes on a raft like a ferry that Mr Pengelly has built. Even Zoe comes, Dev and Gran too. Never realised so many people cared about the island. Vern Solomon looks a bit spaced-out in his canvas hat, looking down from his verandah at everything going on. Guess we must look like a huge flock of alien birds invading his territory. There must be forty of us. A few kids from school – Mei, Shawn and Prescott.

Mr Pengelly keeps saying the island is a piece of maritime history and we can't let it gradually disappear without a fight. It's only half the size it was in 1966. Ms Bosse told us how it was named by Matthew Flinders, and even showed us maps. I could see where it keeps dissolving into the sea like a giant sugar cube. It's only a sandy shoal.

I go and tell Vern that Gran's letting me stay the night with him. Dev must have had something to do with it. He and I both think the sailmaker's just lonely. Olsen can't be much company. Vern's eye twinkles when I tell him. Weird how only one does. Then I go back and help; I've got lots of energy today. The excavator is a giant insect pushing sand into these huge nylon cloth bags. Some guys are cutting and burning boxthorns. At one stage Mr Pengelly looks impressed and almost teary when he sees us kids filling up the smaller sandbags for the top. It'll look like a long worm lying out in the sun on the groyne wall. Gran's running around with thermoses and water bottles.

Shawn has another go at me under his breath. If everyone wasn't around I reckon I'd punch his face in. I sure as hell feel like it. Dev's ruining me for fighting – he says to think of something else. It's really hard to do though, but I have a go. The other guy can tell; at first he gets really pissed off that you're ignoring him. Then when he sees you're not flinging your fists around he gives up in the end. That's the plan. Shawn does this time anyway – there's a limit to what he can do without anyone noticing. Six months ago I would have been sucked in and everyone would have thought I started it.

Shawn goes grumbling back to Jonnie Prescott. I wonder if he picks on Prescott like he does me, or is it something about me? Maybe because I wasn't born here like them?

By mid-afternoon, everyone's tired. The ‘mattresses' look like a giant stone snake near the lighthouse, guarding the island. Apparently Vern asked Mr Pengelly if we could all stay on this end of the island – reckons forty of us at once would spook his birds. They're not really his – ‘sanctuary' means they belong to everyone, but I can see what he means. I can imagine him out there on the wooden walkways, talking to them.

I tell Mei I'm staying overnight and she turns a pale face to me. She's not usually pale like that so I can tell what she's thinking. ‘But Joel, the ghost.'

‘That's why I'm staying.' I can't tell if that's admiration in her face or ‘Hey, poor sucker, he doesn't know what he's getting into.' I catch that look on people's faces a lot, but they don't know what I can handle. I wave as Mei gets into our boat with Dev, Gran and Zoe. I try not to worry about Zoe right now. I wonder if Dev's knack of not fighting works with worries too, whether you can tell yourself to ignore them. Wonder if that would make them go away.

Soon there's just the sailmaker and me. And Olsen, of course.