Swimming at Night: A Novel (16 page)

In front of her a thin man with acne scars stood while his instructor attached himself to the man’s harness, checking and rechecking buckles and straps. The pair moved towards the open door, shuffling like prisoners in their jumpsuits. She glanced away for a second, and when she looked back they’d vanished.

She felt a firm tap on her shoulder. “Your turn,” shouted her jumpmaster, a young man with tight blond curls and crooked front teeth.

“I’m not jumping.”

He began maneuvering her, strapping himself to the back of her, pulling hard on each buckle to check it was completely secure.

He’d not heard her above the noise. “I’m not jumping!” she shouted.

“You don’t like dumplings?” he shouted back with a grin, then pulled her goggles down over her eyes. He was teasing her, of course. But then he started moving towards the plane door.

“No!” she said, spreading her arms. “I’m! Not! Jumping!”

“Your choice. But I want you to see the view before deciding.”

She could feel her pulse racing. She took a deep breath and told herself she could do this. She nodded to the jumpmaster. “I’ll look.”

“We’re going to sit,” he said and she obeyed, sitting between his legs, and then together they shimmied along the plane floor towards the doorway. The wind became fiercer, blowing away words, thoughts, breath.

“Put your arm on the handle,” he shouted. “It’s safer.”

She reached for the handle and braced herself. The noise! Her heart drilled at her chest. Below lay a grid of scorched fields, the sea shimmering in the distance.

“See that step on the wheel strut? I’m going to put my right foot on it, and then I want you to do the same.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Very close to her ear, as if his voice were coming from inside her, he said, “Yes, you can.”

Could she? This wasn’t her, jumping from planes. But there was a thrill in stepping so far outside of herself.
What would Ed think if he saw me now?
She felt a heady sense of defiance and, very slowly, she stretched her foot to reach the wing strut. The pant leg of her jumpsuit flapped furiously in the wind and goose bumps spread across her body.

“You want to do this?” he shouted.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Cross your arms over your chest.”

She did as he said, feeling as if she were making a prayer of her body. Then she felt him leaning forward to grab an upper handle. Her hairband was snatched by the wind and her hair whipped in front of her goggles.

“No! No!” Panic was thick and acidic in her stomach. Every muscle in her body was clenched tight, arching away from the open exit.

Then she was aware of him leaning farther forward so her whole body was suspended beneath him.

He let go.

Her mouth opened with the utter shock of the free fall, and the insides of her lips turned as dry as the earth below. She hurtled through cold air currents and wisps of clouds. Blood pounded in her ears.

A long, soundless scream burnt in her throat. She was petrified of the parachute failing, the lines getting tangled, an injury on landing—but mostly, Katie screamed because as she plummeted through the sky, she could imagine with horrifying clarity her sister’s terror the moment her feet left that cliff top.

(Western Australia, November Last Year)

T
he soles of Mia’s feet peeled away from the edge and she fell. Her ears were awash with the roar of the wind, the flap of her clothes, the pounding of her heart. Cold air rushed into her mouth, which had opened into a perfect “O.” The sharp pump of adrenaline was so fierce that it seemed as if only getting this close to death had made life start to pulse deep in her veins.

There was a sudden, rough yank and she felt as if she were being hauled upwards. She heard the canopy of her yellow parachute fill with air as it opened like a buttercup blooming.

She took a short, hard gasp of air.

“Okay?” shouted her jumpmaster, who was harnessed to her back.

Her cheekbones hurt from the press of the goggles, and the feeling of weightlessness had vanished as the nylon straps of her harness dug into her upper thighs and waist. “Yes,” she answered finally. “I’m okay.” And then she started to laugh. The sound bubbled from her mouth and was grasped by the wind. Her smile stretched so wide that wind slipped beneath her goggles, making
her eyes water. Her whole body shook with delight as they glided towards the ground.

Below, a crimson chute carried Finn. He had jumped first, snapping on his goggles, saluting, and then setting his feet squarely on the wing strut, ready. She had seen him leap from the plane with a grin and, after that, there was no hesitation: if Finn jumped, she would follow.

She made a quick prayer that he would land safely, and watched as his chute collapsed in a soft sweep of red, like a lung exhaling. She imagined him stepping free of his harness and shading the sun from his eyes as he searched the sky for her.

As they neared the ground, the jumpmaster reminded her of the landing instructions. She drew her knees towards her chest while he steered them into the final descent. The ground came up faster than she was expecting and they landed hard, a cloud of dust rising to greet them. The moment she was released from the harness, she raced over to Finn, pulling off her goggles.

His face was flushed and sweat dampened his hairline. He was grinning. “How was it?”

“Incredible! I thought my stomach would drop away—like on fairground rides—but it felt like I was flying, not falling.” She threw her arms around him, feeling the heat of his body through the coarse jumpsuit. “Thank you!” Skydiving had been a surprise that Finn had organized, only revealing it on the sweltering bus ride to the dive center.

“You’re welcome.”

“It was exactly what I needed.” And Finn knew that. A month ago he’d found her leaning against a payphone in Maui with her head in her hands. He had hooked his arm around her waist and led her back to the hostel, where he made her sweet tea and listened as she told him about Harley.

Traveling through Western Australia she’d felt like no more than a shadow at Finn’s side, or a silent presence lying awake in their tent at night. He’d spent hours helping her trawl Internet sites searching for snippets of information about her father or giving her the space she needed to think—as if he knew what she needed before she knew herself. “I’ve been crap to travel with, haven’t I?”

“If you hadn’t jumped, I’d have pushed you.”

She began to laugh, but suddenly there were tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, God,” she said, turning away embarrassed.

“Mia?”

She wiped the back of her hand across her face, saying, “I’m fine.” But the adrenaline rush had released something and the tears wouldn’t stop.

“You know I’d never have pushed you. I’d have cut your lines instead—no witnesses that way.”

She was half laughing, half crying now. “Sorry. Ignore me. My head’s a mess.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

She shrugged.

“Come on, talk to me.”

She looked towards the sky, blinking to stem the tears. Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “It’s so fucked up. Everything about it is fucked up.”

“Are we talking about Harley?”

She nodded, then pulled the sleeves of the jumpsuit over her hands. “The whole reason I went to Maui was to find out what Mick’s like. Understand who he is.” She paused. “Maybe even see if I’m like him.”

“But instead you found out that he’s not your dad. Harley is.”

She nodded again. “Mum lied to us our whole lives. She didn’t
even tell us the truth when she knew she was dying. And I just keep thinking,
Why?
” She sniffed, dried her eyes with her sleeve. “Maybe she didn’t want us to know she’d had an affair, or that Katie and I are half sisters. Or maybe,” she said, slower now, “it was because she didn’t want me to know that Harley was my dad.”

He waited.

“When Mick was describing him, I remember thinking,
It’s like he’s describing me.
It was surreal. There were so many similarities between us.”

Finn was listening intently, his head tilted towards her.

“But he hanged himself.” She swallowed. “My dad hanged himself when he was my age.”

Another light aircraft took off in a cloud of red dust.

“Mia?”

Her voice was small, the anger dissipated. “I’m so scared I’m like him.”

Finn stepped closer, forcing her to meet his eye. “I’m going to tell you this once, so I want you to remember it.”

She held his gaze.

“You are not Harley. Or your mum. Or Katie. You, Mia Greene, are
you
.”

“But I’m not sure I know who that is.”

He slung his arm around her shoulder, smiling. “I do.”

*   *   *

They returned to the hostel only to shower and change, and then left for the tavern. Finn struck out across the sand dunes, Mia following. “It’s a steak night for me,” he said, picturing a thick slab of meat with a blue-cheese sauce.

“I’m going cheeseburger with extra bacon.”

“Don’t try and intimidate me.”

As the dunes ascended, Mia ran ahead, calling, “Last one to the top buys the drinks!”

He bolted after her, sending thick sweeps of sand cascading behind him. He managed to hook his hand into the back pocket of her shorts and yank her back. She laughed, swatting at his arm, and finally broke free, taking the last few strides to the top.

As Finn drew level with her, he saw that the beach below was awash with people. Music blared from speakers planted on the back of a pickup truck, in front of which a crowd danced with their hands thrown in the air. A roaring beach fire glowed orange and people sat cross-legged in the sand playing bongos and didgeridoos. The air smelled of woodsmoke and marijuana.

“Want to take a look?” he asked.

They bounded down the dunes together, his shoes filling with sand. At the bottom they threaded through a throng of people standing around a smoking barbeque. An old Bedford van was parked on the tide line, its full beam illuminating a handful of men bodysurfing the white water rumbling in to shore. They wandered deeper into the crowd, Mia rocking her hips to the rhythm of the music.

They paused by a flare-lit circle where a girl, painted silver, was spinning a hoop around her waist. She gracefully raised one arm and the hoop seemed to coil up, reaching the tips of her fingers. With a flick of her wrist she sent the hoop to the ground and skipped through it, then continued to twirl it around her waist like an orbit.

“She’s incredible,” Mia said.

“This is porn for hippies,” Finn replied.

She laughed and linked her arm through his. Instantly, the heat from her grip surged through his body and his heart rate increased. “Mia,” he said, leading her away from the densest section of crowd.
“I need to talk to you about something.” From the outset of this trip he’d wanted to tell her how he felt, but the right opportunity hadn’t arisen. Since their talk this afternoon she’d seemed buoyant, lighthearted again, and he sensed it was time.

“What is it?” she said, nudging him.

He took a deep breath. “Do you remember when we were sixteen, we went to that Thaw gig at the Guildhall? You crowd surfed.”

Her eyes brightened. “That was an amazing night! Whatever happened to that band?”

“When you came back through the crowd, you kissed me.”

“Did I?”

She stopped. He felt her arm slip free of his.

His heart was pounding. Had she anticipated what was coming? Had it been that obvious all along? He waited, his heart in his mouth.

When she said nothing, he glanced at her. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, and he followed the direction of her gaze. It was fixed on the man moving towards them. He was barefoot, wearing shorts and a dark T-shirt through which Finn could see the square set of his shoulders. The man stopped in front of them. “Mia?”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “Noah? My God! What are you doing here?”

“A big swell’s moving in. A group of us are heading south for it.”

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, a smile spreading over her face.

“You’re staying here?”

“We’ve been at the hostel for a few nights.”

Finn, having not been introduced, stretched out his hand. “I’m Finn.” It was the first time Noah’s gaze left Mia. They shook hands and Finn felt the powerful but easy grip of Noah’s fingers. “So how do you know each other?”

“We met in Maui,” Mia said, looking at her feet.

Maui?
She had never mentioned him. Finn felt the excited apprehension of only moments ago ebb away and be replaced by a different kind of anxiety.

“You traveling north or south?” Noah asked him.

“South. We came down from Broome.”

“Hot up there. It’ll get cooler as you drop.”

“You’re from Australia?” Finn asked, noting the accent.

“South coast. Near Melbourne.”

“Right.”

When no one said anything more, Finn suggested, “I guess we should be heading on to the tavern. Maybe see you later, Noah.”

“Do you mind if I catch up with you?” Mia said suddenly.

What could he say? That he did mind? That the way her face lit up when she looked at Noah made him feel as though he’d been punched in the gut? He thought of the conversation he and Mia should be having, the one in which he would tell her that she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met; the one that would end with a kiss. “Sure. I’ll order your cheeseburger. Extra bacon, right?”

“Right.”

He watched as she and Noah moved off together, maintaining a couple of inches between them. Two bare-chested men burst from the crowd, hooting and spraying up sand with their feet. Instinctively, Noah put his arm around Mia, drawing her away from their path, exactly as Finn would have done—only then Noah’s arm remained there.

*   *   *

Mia had not allowed her thoughts to wander too near the memory of the night they’d met, when she’d experienced an opening of
something deep in her chest. But now, feeling Noah’s arm around her waist, she allowed herself to remember: the gaze that held hers, the brush of his lips along her collarbone, the taste of salt on his skin.