don’t even remember crossing the Singing Bridge, let alone turning toward the river. Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I can’t give in to the salty surge. I won’t. Because if I do they’ll never stop, running like a high-tide river to the sea.
CHAPTER NINE
“Hello, love,” Dad says volubly. “Come and have a scone.”
I power a smile from my otherwise solemn face. “Ah, no thanks Dad. I’m not really hungry.”
“Since when do you refuse one of my scones?” Mum sings from the table. “Are you eating properly?”
“I’m fine, Mum. Really.”
She peeks behind me, as if searching for someone. “So where’s Ben? I thought he was with you at the beach?” Accusation fills her tone. She wants him right here, in plain sight. Because he leaves on Monday.
“He was. I mean, is. He’s still down there.”
“Everything okay?” Dad asks, furrowing his brow. “You seem a little ... I don’t know ... serious.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I backed into Jack Foster’s ute when I left the beach.”
Predictably, Mum glowers. “What? How on earth did you do that, Sam? Didn’t you look where you were going?” The air around her is layered with shrill negativity. I hear the ticking of her mind through the momentary silence. Confirming everything she thinks she already knows. Everything she believes - about me.
I stare hard in her direction. “Well, obviously not, Mum. He’s going to help get my car fixed though.”
“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters,” says Dad, softening the blows so I fall softly, mellifluously into feathers. “I’m going fishing later, Sammy. Why don’t you come? I’ve got the day off. It’d be just like old times.”
I smile at him because he always does this. Attempts to shift the dark aura sitting like a cloud above my head. “Yeah, why not,” I say, forcing out unfelt chirpiness.
***
Dusk falls over Bennett’s so the dune’s silhouetted against a twilight sky. We reach the back car park and it’s devoid of human life, which is just the way I like it. The sea falls messily, pretty with pink stretching low across the horizon. It’s hard to stay gloomy in the presence of such beauty.
“You shouldn’t take her comments to heart, you know,” Dad says. “You just can’t take them seriously.”
We trudge across rippled sand on the ridge of the dune. With each step the fine sand squeaks in protest at our footprints traversing the pristine hill. I think about what he’s said, and I do take them to heart. Her criticisms strike at me, time and time again. Perhaps there’s no malice, but a lifetime of disapproval drives roots into your soul. And those roots leave scars twisting outwards from within.
“You’d think I’d be used to them by now,” I say off-handedly.
Dad seems sad fleetingly. “If you need a hand with the car, you only have to ask.”
“Thanks, Dad. But Jack said he’d ask his friend to do it. So I’ll wait and see what happens there.”
He nods. “Okay. But just remember the offer’s there.”
I glance across the dune, giving him an appreciative smile. “So how come you’ve got the day off? I don’t remember the last time you weren’t at work.”
He looks over, giving a forced smile. The smile that gets me worried. The one where I know his workload’s too much. With only two cops on duty at any given time, including Dad, it’s relentless work. “Yes, I just felt I needed it. Extra staff are coming in for a while, so work should ease up for a bit.”
“Pleased to hear it, Dad. You work too hard.”
He grunts an acknowledgement. “Ain’t that the truth.”
It’s a long walk to Yacaaba, but worth it once you get there. Hawks circle above the beach, adrift in currents above the headland. Plonking our fishing gear on the sand we pull out the bait and thread it onto hooks. Dad casts out first before driving the handle of his beach rod into the sand, securing it so he can sit with the sundown.
CHAPTER NINE
“Hello, love,” Dad says volubly. “Come and have a scone.”
I power a smile from my otherwise solemn face. “Ah, no thanks Dad. I’m not really hungry.”
“Since when do you refuse one of my scones?” Mum sings from the table. “Are you eating properly?”
“I’m fine, Mum. Really.”
She peeks behind me, as if searching for someone. “So where’s Ben? I thought he was with you at the beach?” Accusation fills her tone. She wants him right here, in plain sight. Because he leaves on Monday.
“He was. I mean, is. He’s still down there.”
“Everything okay?” Dad asks, furrowing his brow. “You seem a little ... I don’t know ... serious.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I backed into Jack Foster’s ute when I left the beach.”
Predictably, Mum glowers. “What? How on earth did you do that, Sam? Didn’t you look where you were going?” The air around her is layered with shrill negativity. I hear the ticking of her mind through the momentary silence. Confirming everything she thinks she already knows. Everything she believes - about me.
I stare hard in her direction. “Well, obviously not, Mum. He’s going to help get my car fixed though.”
“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters,” says Dad, softening the blows so I fall softly, mellifluously into feathers. “I’m going fishing later, Sammy. Why don’t you come? I’ve got the day off. It’d be just like old times.”
I smile at him because he always does this. Attempts to shift the dark aura sitting like a cloud above my head. “Yeah, why not,” I say, forcing out unfelt chirpiness.
***
Dusk falls over Bennett’s so the dune’s silhouetted against a twilight sky. We reach the back car park and it’s devoid of human life, which is just the way I like it. The sea falls messily, pretty with pink stretching low across the horizon. It’s hard to stay gloomy in the presence of such beauty.
“You shouldn’t take her comments to heart, you know,” Dad says. “You just can’t take them seriously.”
We trudge across rippled sand on the ridge of the dune. With each step the fine sand squeaks in protest at our footprints traversing the pristine hill. I think about what he’s said, and I do take them to heart. Her criticisms strike at me, time and time again. Perhaps there’s no malice, but a lifetime of disapproval drives roots into your soul. And those roots leave scars twisting outwards from within.
“You’d think I’d be used to them by now,” I say off-handedly.
Dad seems sad fleetingly. “If you need a hand with the car, you only have to ask.”
“Thanks, Dad. But Jack said he’d ask his friend to do it. So I’ll wait and see what happens there.”
He nods. “Okay. But just remember the offer’s there.”
I glance across the dune, giving him an appreciative smile. “So how come you’ve got the day off? I don’t remember the last time you weren’t at work.”
He looks over, giving a forced smile. The smile that gets me worried. The one where I know his workload’s too much. With only two cops on duty at any given time, including Dad, it’s relentless work. “Yes, I just felt I needed it. Extra staff are coming in for a while, so work should ease up for a bit.”
“Pleased to hear it, Dad. You work too hard.”
He grunts an acknowledgement. “Ain’t that the truth.”
It’s a long walk to Yacaaba, but worth it once you get there. Hawks circle above the beach, adrift in currents above the headland. Plonking our fishing gear on the sand we pull out the bait and thread it onto hooks. Dad casts out first before driving the handle of his beach rod into the sand, securing it so he can sit with the sundown.
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